i ^Ki^' / THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES -Q 'P* ¥ ^^.^ife^^^^^^S -*< 7*» > y r^ THE BOOK OF BALLADS EDITED BY BON GAULTIER AND ILLUSTRATED BY DOYLE, LEECH, AXD CROWQUILL F0X7KTEENTH EDITION WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AXD SONS EDINBURGH AND LONDON MDCCCLXXXIV All Eights reserved CONTENTS. Spanish Ballads. PAGE THE BROKEN PITCHER, 3 DON FERNANDO GOMERSALEZ : From the Spanish — of Astley's, 7 THE COURTSHIP OF OUR CID, 24 American Ballads. THE FIGHT WITH THE SNAPPING TURTLE; OR, THE AMERICAN ST GEORGE:— Fytte First, 35 Fytte Second, 39 THE LAY OF MR COLT:— Streak the First, 45 Streak the Second 47 THE DEATH OF JABEZ DOLLAR, ...... 53 THE ALABAMA DUEL, 59 THE AMERICAN'S APOSTROPHE TO "BOZ," ... 66 85SG25 vi CONTENTS. Miscellancons Ballads. THE STUDENT OF JENA, T5 THE LAY OF THE LEVITE, SO BURSCH GROGGENBURG, 82 NIGHT AND MORNING, ST THE BITER BIT 89 THE MEETING, 5^2 THE CONVICT AND THE AUSTRALIAN LADY, ... 91 THE DOLEFUL LAY OF THE HONOURABLE I. O. UWINS, 98 THE KNYGHTE AND THE TAYLZEOUR'S DAUGHTER, . 105 THE MIDNIGHT VISIT, 112 THE LAY OF THE LOVELORN US MY WIFE'S COUSIN 130 THE QUEEN IN FRANCE: Ax ancient Scottish Ballad:— P.\RT I., 135 Part II 113 THE MASSACRE OF THE MACPHERSON : From the Gaelic, 150 THE YOUNG STOCKBROKER'S BRIDE 155 THE LAUREATES' TOURNEY :- Fytte the First, 159 Fvtte the Second, l''^ THE ROYAL BANQUET, 169 THE BARD OF ERIN'S LAMENT 1T4 THE LAUREATE 1"6 A MIDNIGHT MEDITATION, ISO MONTGOMERY : A Poem 185 THE DEATH OF SPACE 1S9 LITTLE .JOHN AND THE RED FRIAR : A Lay of Siikrwood: — Fvtte the First, 1^1 Fytte the Second, 197 THE RHYME OF SIR LAUNCELOT BOGLE : A Leoend of Glasgow 200 CONTENTS. VU MISCELLANEOUS BALLADS -(continued) :— THE LAY OF THE LOVER'S FRIEND 223 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI, 227 THE CADI'S DAUGHTER: A Legend of the Bosphorus, . 231 THE DIRGE OF THE DRINKER 236 THE DEATH OF DUVAL, 239 EASTERN SERENADE, 245 DAME FREDEGONDE, 248 THE DEATH OF ISHMAEL, 253 PARR'S LIFE PILLS, 255 TARQUIN AND THE AUGUR, 258 LA MORT D'ARTHUR, 230 JUPITER AND THE INDIAN ALE, 261 THE LAY OF THE DOUDNEY BROTHERS, .... 264 PARIS AND HELEN 267 SONG OF THE ENNUYE ! . 270 CAROLINE, 273 TO A FORGET-ME-NOT, 276 THE MISHAP, 278 COMFORT IN AFFLICTION 281 THE IN\'OCATION, 283 THE HUSBAND'S PETITION, 287 SONNET TO BRITAIN, 291 sa?' ^i^o^r. Come, hm mii huts, ;ini) rcair tfjcm if nou list ; Ub jjtnsibc jpuMif, if nou list not, tiiiiT. Comt, for iiou Iniob me. |f am I)e tobo sancj Of Histcr Colt, nub .31 am be tobo frameb Of MibVitomb tfie toilb anii bouiirous son^. l'envot. (Tonu, listen to mii I;nis, anb iiou shall Iicar ^oto Morbsbortl), battling for tbc ||^auitatf's brcatlj, '^^lorctotbcbusttljctm-ible Ji^itjiiall; ^ob U. ^1. ^alillis for Ijis rountrn's goob, |n complete steel, all botoie-laiibeb at point, Cooli loggings in tbe Snapping; 2'urtle's toomb. Come, listen to mn lans, ant) iiou sball Ijear Clje mingleb musit of all mobern barbs J[loating aloft in sucb peculiar strains, %$ strike tbemselbes bitb enbn anb ama^e ; ^or uou " brigbt-barpeb " ^ennnson sjjall sing ; Ulacaulan cbant a more tban ^loman Ian ; inb ^gulber\^ntton, f nttou "gulber erst, ^Inseen amibst a metapbnsic fog, ^jobl melancboln bomage to tbe moon ; J;or jiou once more Hlontgomern sljall rabe |n all bis rapt rabibitjr of rbmne ; D^anliceneb (Tocliaigne sljall pipe Ijis punn note, ^ub our jioung Cnglanb's pennn trumpet blob. Spajvisii ballads ./• N^ \ 4 IV- -.AV^*^' T/ie Broken Pitcher. - -V It was a Moorish maiden was sitting by a well, And Avhat tlie maiden tliouglit of, I cannot, cannot tell, "WHien by there rode a valiant knight from the town of Oviedo — Alphonzo Guzman was he hight, the Count of Tolo- ledo. 4 THE BROKEN riTCIIER. '•■ Oh, maiden, Moorish maiden, Avhy sit'st thou by the spring? Say, dost thou seek a lover, or any other thing 1 "Wliy dost thou look upon me, with eyes so dark and wide, And wherefore doth the pitcher lie broken by thy side ] " '• I do not seelc a lover, thou Christian knight so gay, Because an article like that hath never come my way; And why I gaze upon you, I cannot, cannot tell, Except that in your iron hose you look uncommon swell. " My pitcher it is broken, and this the reason is, — A shepherd came behind me, and tried to snatch a kiss; I would not stand his nonsense, so ne'er a word I spoke, But scored Lim on the costard, and so the jug was broke. THE BROKEN PITCHER. 0 " My uncle, the Alcayde, he waits for me at home, And Avill not take his tumbler until Zorayda come : I cannot bring him Avater — ■ the pitcher is hi pieces — And so I'm sure to catcli it, 'cos he Avallops all his nieces." " Oh, maiden, ]\roorish maiden I Avilt thou be ruled by me 1 Then wipe thine eyes and rosy lips, and give me kisses three ; And I'll give thee my helmet, thou kind and court- eous lady, To carry home the water to thy uncle, the Alcayde." He lighted down from off his steed — he tied him to a tree — He bent him to the maiden, and he took his kisses three ; " To wrong thee, sweet Zorayda, I swear would be a sin ! " And he knelt him at the fountain, and he dipped his helmet in. b THE BROKEN PITCHER. Up rose the Moorish maiden — behind the knight she steals, And caught Alphonzo Guzman in a twinkling by the heels : She tipped him in, and held him down beneath the bubbling Avater, — "!N'ow, take thou that for venturing to kiss Al Hamet's daughter ! " A Christian maid is weeping in the town of Oviedo ; She waits the coming of her love, the Count of Tololedo. I pray you all in charity, tliat you will never tell, How he met the ]\Ioorisli maiden beside the lonely well. "^^^^--.-...^c.,,^^^^ Don Fernando Gonicrsalez. From the Sfaiiish of Astley's. Don Fernando Gomersalez ! basely have they Lome tliee doAvn ; Paces ten Leliind tliy charger is thy glorious body thrown ; Fetters have they bound upon thee — iron fetters, fast and sure ; Don Fernando Gomersalez, thou art captive to the Moor ! 8 DON FERNANDO GOMERSALEZ. Long Avitliin a dingy dungeon pined that brave and noble kniglit, For the Saracenic warriors Avell tliey IcncAV and feared his might ; Long he lay and long he languished on his dripping bed of stone, Till the cankered iron fetters ate tlieir way into his bone. On the twentieth day of August — 'twas the feast of false j\Iahound — Came the Moorish population from the neighbouring cities round ; There to hold their foul carousal, there to dance and there to sing, And to pay their yearly homage to Al-Widdicomb, the King ! First they wheeled their supple coursers, wheeled them at their utmost speed, Tlicn they galloped by in squadrons, tossing far ihe light jerced ; DOX FERNANDO GOMERSALEZ. 9 Then around the circus racing, faster than llie swallow flies, Did they spurn the yellow sawdust in the rapt spectators' eyes. Proudly did the IMoorisli monarch every passing- warrior greet, As he sate enthroned above them, with the lamps beneath his feet; 10 DON FERXANDO GOMERSALEZ. " Tell me, thou black-bearded Cadi ! arc there any in the land, That against my janissaries dare one hour in combat stand ] " Then the bearded Cadi answered — " Ee not wroth, my lord the King, If thy faithful slave shall venture to observe one little thing ; Valiant, doubtless, arc thy ■warriors, and their beards arc long and hairy, And a thunderbolt in battle is each bristly janissary: "But I cannot, 0 my sovereign, quite forget that fearful day, Wlien I saw the Christian army in its terrible array ; "When they charged across the footlights like a tor- rent down its bed, "With the red cross floating o'er them, and Fernando at their head ! DON FERNANDO GOMERSALEZ. 11 " Don Fernando Gomersalez ! niatcliless cliieftain lio in war, Mightier than Don Sticknejo, hraver than the Cid Bivar ! ISTot a cheek within Grenada, 0 my king, but wan and pale is, "When tliey hear the dreaded name of Don Fernando Gomersalez ! " "Thou shalt see thy champion, Cadi ! hither quick the captive bring ! " Thus in Avrath and deadly anger spoke Al-Widdi- comb, the King: "Paler than a maiden's forehead is the Christian's hue, I ween, Since a year within the dungeons of Grenada he hath been ! " Then they bfought the Gomersalez, and they led the warrior in ; "Weak and wasted seemed his body, and his face was pale and thin ; 12 DON FERNANDO GOMERSALEZ. ]5ut the ancient fire Avas burning, unsubdued, within his eye, And his step -was proud and stately, and his look was stern and high. Scarcely from tumultuous cheering could the galleried crowd refrain, For they knew Don Gomersalez and his prowess in the plain ; Lut they feared the grizzly despot and his myrmidons in steel, tSo their sympathy descended in the fruitage of Seville. ""Wherefore, monarch, hast thou brought me from the dungeon darl< and drear. Where these limbs of mine have Avasted in confine- ment fur a year'? l^ost thou lead me forth to torture 1 — Hack and pinc(;rs I defy ! Is it that thy base grotcsquos may behold a hero die 1 " DON FBBNANDO GOMERSALEZ. 13 "Hold thy peace, thou Christian caitifl', and atteiul to what I say ! Thou art called the starkest rider of the Spanisli cur's ariay If thy courage he undaunted, as they say it was of yore, Thou mayst yet achieve thy freedom, — yet regain thy native shore, " CoiU'ses three within this circus 'gainst my Avarriors shalt thou run. Ere yon Aveltering pasteboard ocean shall receive yon muslin sun ; Victor — thou shalt have thy freedom ; Lut if stretched upon the plain, To thy dark and dreary dungeon they shall liale thee back again." " Give me but the armour, monarch, I have worn in many a field, Give me but my trusty helmet, give me but my dinted shield ; 14 DON FERNANDO GOMERSALEZ. Aud my old steed, Cavieca, swiftest courser iu the ring, And I ratl)cr should imagine that I'll do the business, King ! " Then they carried down the armour from the garret where it lay. Oh ! hut it was red and rusty, and the plumes "were shorn aAvay : And they led out Bavieca from a foul and fdthy van. For the conqueror had sold him to a Moorish dog's- meat man. '\^nicn the steed heheld his master, then he whinnied loud and free, And, in token of subjection, knelt upon each broken knee ; And a tear of -walnut largeness to the warrior's eye- lids rose, As he fondly picked a bean-straw from his coughing courser's nose. DON FERNANDO GOMERSALEZ. 15 " Many a time, 0 Bavieca, hast tliou borne me througli the fray ! Eear me but again as deftly through the listed ring this day ; Or if thou art -worn and feeble, as may well have come to pass, Time it is, my trusty charger, both of us were sent to grass ! " Then he seized his lance, and, vaulting, in the saddle sate upright; Marble seemed the noble coiu'ser, iron seemed the mailed knight; And a cry of admiration burst from every Moorish lady. " Five to four on Don Fernando ! " cried the sable- bearded Cadi. ^Yarriors three from Alcantara burst into the listed space, \Yarriors three, all bred in battle, of the proud Alhambra race : 16 DON FEUNANDO G0ME15SALEZ, Trumpets sounded, coursers bounded, luid tlic fore- most straight Avent down, Tumbling, like a sack of turnips, just before the jeering Clo"\vn. In the second chieftain galloped, and lie bowed him to the King, And his saddle-girths were tightened by the IMaster of the Iiing ; Through three blazing hoops he bounded ere the desperate fight began — Don Fernando! bear thee bravely! — 'tis the Moor Abdorrhaman ! Like a double streak of lightning, clasliing in the sulphurous sky, Met tlie pair of hostile heroes, and they made the sawdust fly; And the ]\[oslem spear so stillly smote on Don Fernando's mail, That lie reeled, as if in li(pior, back to Lavieca's tail: DON FERNANDO GOMERSALEZ. 17 But liG caught the mace beside him, and he griped it hard and fast, And lie swung it starkly upwards as the foeman hounded past ; And the deadly stroke descended through the skull and through the brain, As ye may have seen a poker cleave a cocoa-nut in twain. Sore astonished Avas the monarch, and the IMoorish warriors all, Save the third bold chief, who tarried and beheld his brethren fall; And the Clown, in haste arising from the footstool where he sat, Notified the first appearance of the famous Acrobat •, N'ever on a single charger rides that stout and stalwart INIoor, — Five beneath his stride so stately bear him o'er the trembling floor; B 18 DON FERNANDO GOMERSALEZ. Eive Arabians, black as luidniglit — on their necks the rein lie tliroAVS, And tlic outer and the inner feel the pressure of his toes. K'ever Avore that chieftain armour ; in a knot himself he ties, "With his grizzly head appearing in the centre of his thighs, Till the petrified spectator asks, in paralysed alarm, Where may be the warrior's body, — which is leg, and Avhich is arm 1 "Sound the charge ! '' The coursers started ; witli a yell and furious vault. High in air the J\Ioorish champion cut a Avondrous somersault ; O'er the head of Don Fernando like a tennis-ball he sprung, Caught him tightly by the girdle, and behind the crupper hung. DON FERNANDO GOMERSALEZ. 19 Then his dagger Don Fernando phicked from out its jewelled sheath, And he struck the Moor so fiercely, as he grappled him beneath, That the good Damascus weapon sank within the folds of fat. And as dead as Julius Cffisar dropped the Gordian Acrobat. 20 DON FERXAXDO GOMERSALEZ. Meanwhile fast the suu Avas siukhig — it had sunk beneath the sea, Ere Fernando Gomersalez smote the hitter of the tliree ; And AhWiddicomb, the monarch, pointed, with a bitter smile, To the deeply-darkening canvas; — blacker grew it all the wliile. " Thou hast slain my warriors, Spaniard ! but tliou hast not kept thy time ; Only two had sunk before thee ere I heard the cur- few chime ; Lack thou goest to thy dungeon, and thou may'st be wondrous glad, That thy head is on thy shoulders for thy work to- day, my lad ! " Therefore all tliy boasted valour. Christian dog, of no avail is ! " Dark as midnight grew the brow of Don Fernando Gomersalez ; — DON FERNANDO GOMERSALEZ. 21 Stiffly sate ho in liis saddle, grimly looked around the ring, Laid his lance -wilhin the rest, and shook his gaunt- let at the King. " Oh, thou foul and faithless traitor ! wouldst thou play me false again 1 "NYelcome death and welcome torture, rather than the captive's chain ! Eut I give thee Avarning, caitiff ! Look thou sharply to thine eye — Unavenged, at least in harness, Gomersalez shall not die ! " Thus he spoke, and Eavieca like an arrow forAvard fleAv, Plight and left the JNIoorish squadron Avheeled to let the hero through ; Brightly gleamed the lance of vengeance — fiercely sped the fatal thrust — From his throne the ]Moorish monarch tumbled life- less in the dust. 22 DON FERXANDO GOMERSALEZ. Speed tlicc, speed thee, Bavieca ! speed thee faster than the wind ! Life and freedom are Ijofore thee, deadly foes give chase behind ! DON FERNANDO GOMERSALEZ. 23 Speed tlioo up the sloping spring-board; o'er the bridge that spans the seas ; Yonder gauzy moon will light thee through the grove of canvas trees. Close before thee Pampeluna spreads her painted pasteboard gate ! Speed thee onward, gallant courser, speed thee with. thy knightly freight ! Victory ! The town receives them ! — Gentle ladies, this the tale is, "V\liicli I learned in Astley's Circus, of Fernando Gomersalez. r ^£3'C~5W' t ll^^ The Coiu'tsJiip of our Cid. AVhat a pang of sweet emotion Thrilled the Master of the IJing, "When he first beheld the lady- Through the stabled portal spring ! THE COURTSHIP OF OUIl CID. 25 ]\Ii(lway in his wild grimacing Stopped the piebald-visaged Clown ; And the thunders of the audience Nearly brought the gallery down. Donna Inez AVoolfordinez ! Saw ye ever such a maid, With the feathers swaling o'er her, And her spangled rich brocade 1 In her fairy hand a horsewhip, On her foot a buskin small, So she stepped, the stately damsel. Through the scarlet grooms and all. And she beckoned for her courser. And they brought a milk-white mare ; Proud, I ween, was that Arabian Such a gentle freight to bear : And the master moved to greet her. With a proud and stately walk ; And, in reverential homage, Eubbed her soles with virgin chalk. 2G THE COURTSHIP OF OUR CID. Eound she flew, as Flora flying Spans the circle of the year ; And the youth of London, sighing. Half forgot the ginger-beer — Quite forgot the maids beside them ; As they surely well might do, "When she raised two Eoman candles, Shooting fireballs red and blue ! Swifter than the Tartar's arrow. Lighter than the lark in flight. On the left foot now she bounded, . !N"ow she stood upon the right. Like a beautiful Bacchante, Here she soars, and there she kneels, "While amid her floating tresses Flash two whirling Catherine Avheels ! Hark ! the blare of yonder trumpet ! See, the gates are opened wide ! Room, there, room for Gomcrsalez, — Gomersalcz in his pride ! THE COURTSHIP OP OUR CID. Eose the shouts of exultation, Eose the cat's triumphant call, As he houndeJ, man and courser, Over Master, Clown, and all ! Donna Inez Woolfordinez ! Why those blushes on thy cheek 1 Doth thy trembling bosom tell thee, He hath come thy love to seek 1 Fleet thy Arab, but behind thee He is rushing like a gale ; One foot on his coal-black's shoulders, And the other on his tail ! Onward, onward, panting maiden ! He is faint, and fails, for now By the feet he hangs suspended From his glistening saddle-bow. Down are gone both cap and feather, Lance and gonfalon are down ! Trunks, and cloak, and vest of velvet. He has flung them to the Clown. 27 o 28 THE COURTSHIP OF OUR CID. Faint and failing ! Up lie vaultcth, Fresh as ■when he first began ; All in coat of bright vermilion, 'Quipped as Shaw, the Lifeguardsman ; Eight and left his Avhizzing broadsword, Like a sturdy flail, he throws ; Cutting out a path unto thee Tlu'cugh imaginary foes. Woolfordinoz ! speed thee onward ! He is hard upon thy track, — Paralysed is "Widdicombez, Nor his whip can longer crack ; He has flung away his broadsword, 'Tis to clasp thee to his breast. Onward ! — see, he bares his bosom, Tears away his scarlet vest ; Leaps from out his nether garments, And his leathern stock unties — As the flower of London's dustmen, Now in swift pursuit ho flies. TUB COURTSHIP OF OUR CID. 29 Nimbly now he cuts and shuffles, O'er the buckle, heel and toe ! Flaps his hands in his side-pockets, "Winks to all the throng below ! Onward, onward rush the coursers ; "Woolfordinez, peerless girl, O'er the garters lightly bounding From her steed with airy whirl ! Gomersalez, wild Avith passion, Danger — all but her — forgets • Wheresoe'er she flies, pursues her, Casting clouds of somersets ! Onward, onward rush the coursers ; Bright is Gomersalez' eye; Saints protect thee, AYoolfordinez, For his triumph sure is nigh ! Now his courser's flaidcs he lashes, O'er his shoulder flings the rein, And his feet aloft he tosses, Holding stoutly by the mane ! 30 THE COURTSHIP OF OUR CIU. Then, his feet once more regaining, Doffs his jacket, doffs his sraalls, And in graceful folds around him A bespangled tunic falls. Pinions from his heels are bursting, His bright locks have pinions o'er them ; And the public see with rapture ]\Iaia's nimble son before them. Speed thee, speed thee, Woolfordinez ! For a panting god pursues ; And the chalk is very nearly Eubbed from thy white satin shoes ; Every bosom throbs with terror. You might hear a pin to drop ; All is hushed, save where a starting Cork gives out a casual pop. One smart lash across his courser. One tremendous bound and stride, And our noble Cid was standing By his "Woolfordinez' side ! THE COURTSniP OF OL'R CID. "With a god's embrace lie clasps her, Eaised her in his manly arms ; And the stables' closing harriers Hid his valour, and her charms ! dMEBICAJV BALLADS v / \' ■Sv/' The Fi^Iit with or, The Ainericaii St George, the SnappiJig Turtle ; w[_ FYTTE FIRST. Have you heard of Philip Slingshy, Slingsby of the manly chest ; How he slew the Snapping Turtle In the regions of the "West % Every day the huge Cawana Lifted up its monstrous jaws ; And it swallowed Langton Bennett, And digested Eufus Dawes. 36 THE FIGHT WITH THE SNAPPING TURTLE. Riled, I ween, was Philip Slingsby, Their untimely deaths to hear ; For one author owed him money. And the other loved him dear. " Listen now, sagacious Tyler, "Wliom the loafers all obey ; What reward will Congress give me, If I take this pest away 1 " Then sagacious Tyler answered, " You're the ring-tailed squealer ! Less Than a hundred heavy dollars Won't bo offered you, I guess ! " And a lot of wooden nutmegs In the bargain, too, we'll throw — Only you just fix the critter. Won't you liquor ere you go 1 " fStraightway leaped the valiant Slingsby Into armour of Htjville, AVith a strong Arkansas toothpick Screwed in every joint of stool. THE FIGHT WITH THE SNAPPING TURTLE. 37 " Come thou -with me, Culleii Dryunt, Come witli me, as squire, I pray ; Be the Homer of the battle Wliich I go to wage to-day." So they went along careering With a loud and martial tramp, Till tliey neared the Snapping Turtle In the dreary Swindle Swamp. But when Slings])y saw the water, SomeAvhat pale, I weeu, was he. " If I come not back, dear Bryant^ TeU the tale to Melanie ! " Tell her that I died devoted. Victim to a noble task ! Han't you got a drop of brandy In the bottom of your llask 1 " As he spoke, an alligator Swam across the sullen creek ; And the two Columbians started, "When they heard the monster shriek ; 38 THE FIGHT WITH THE SNAPPING TURTLE. For a snout of liutre dimensions Eose above the -waters liigli, And took dcwai tlie alligator, As a trout takes down a' ^y. " 'Tarnal death ! the Snapping Turtle ! " Thus the squire in terror cried ; But the noble Slingsby straightway Drew the toothpick from his side. " Fare thee "well I " he cried, and dashing Through the Avaters, strongly swam : Meanwhile, Cidlen Bryant, watching, Breathed a prayer and sucked a dram. Sudden from the slimy bottom "Was the snout again upreared. With a snap as loud as thunder, — And the Slingsby disappeared. Like a mighty steam-ship foundering, DoAvn the monstrous vision sank ; And the ripple, slowly rolling, Plaslied and played upon the baidc. THE FiailT WITH THE SNAmNG TURTLE. 39 Still and stiller grew the water, lluslied tlie canes witliiu the Lrake ; There Avas hut a kind of coughing At the hottoni of the lake. Bryant Avept as loud and deeply As a father for a son — " He's a finished 'coon, is Slingshy, And the brandy's nearly done ! " FYTTE SECOND. In a trance of sickening anguish, Cold and stiff, and sore and damp, For two days did liryant linger By the dreary Swindle Swamp ; Always peering at the water. Always waiting for the hour When those monstrous jaws should open As he saw them ope before. •40 TUE FIGHT WITH THE SNAPPING TURTLE. Still ill vain ; — tlie alligators Scrambled through tlic iiiarsliy brake, And the vampire leeches gaily Sucked the garfish in the lake. Uut the Snapping Turtle never Eose for food or rose for rest, vSince he lodged the steel deposit In the bottom of his chest. Only always from the bottom Sounds of frequent coughing rolled, Just as if the huge Cawana Had a most confounded cold. On the baidv's lay Cullen Ih-yant, As the second moon arose, Gouging on the sloping greensward Some imaginary foes ; "When the swamj) began to tremble. And the canes to rustle fast, As though some stupendous body Through their roots were crushing ])ast. THE FIGHT WITH THE SNAmNG TURTLE. 41 And the waters boiled and bubbled, And, in groups of twos and threes, Several alligators bounded, Smart as squirrels, up the trees. Then a hideous head was lifted, With such huge distended jaws. That they might have held Goliath Quite as well as Eufus Dawes. Paws of elephantine thickness Dragged its body from the bay. And it glared at Cullcn Dry ant In a most xm pleasant way. Then it Avrithed as if in torture. And it staggered to and fro ; And its very shell was shaken In the anguish of its throe : And its cough grew loud and louder, And its sob more husky thick ! For, indeed, it was apparent That the beast was very sick. 42 THE FIGHT WITH THE SNAPI'ING TURTLE. ■^ J.ie ,-1 Till, at last, a spasmy vomit Sliook its carcass through ami throiiyli, And as if from out a caiHion, All ii; anni)ui' 8]iiig.sl)y flew. THE FIGHT WITH THE SNAPPING TURTLE. 43 Bent and bloody ^Vil.s the Lowie Wliich lie held within his grasp ; And he seemed so much exhausted That he scarce had strength to gasp — " Gouge him, Bryant ! darn ye, gouge him ! Gouge him while he's on the shore ! " Bryant's thundjs were straightway Ixiried Where no thumbs had pierced before. Eight from out their bony sockets Did he scoop the monstrous balls ; And, Avith one convulsive shudder, Dead the Snapping Turtle falls ! t^ "^ ^ *i? " Post the tin, sagacious Tyler ! " But the old experienced file, Leering first at Clay and Webster, Answered, with a quiet smile — 44 THE FIGHT WITH THE SNAPPING TURTLE. " (Since you dragged the 'tanial ciittur From the bottom of the ponds, Here's tlie hundred dollars due you, All in Pennsijlvanian Bonds ! " '<^ "r/w; on\\j (lood Amcriani Securities." The Lay of Mr Colt. [The story of Mr Colt, of which our Lay contains merely the sequel, is this : A New York printer, of the name of Adams, had the etlrontery to call upon him one day for payment of an account, whicli tlie independent Colt settled by cutting his creditor's head to fragments with an axe. He then packed his body in a box, and sprinkling it with salt, despatched it to a packet bound for New Oilcans. Suspic'ions having been excited, he was seized and tried before Judge Kent. The trial is, perhaps, the most disgi-aceful upon the records of any country. The ruffian's mistress was jirodueed in court, and cxanuned, in disgusting detail, as to her connec- tion with Colt, and his movements during the days and nights succeed- ing the murder. The head of the murdered man was bandied to and fro in the court, handed up to the jury, and commented on by witnesses and counsel ; and to crown the horrors of the whole proceeding, the wretch's own counsel, a Mr Emmet, commencing the defence with a cool admis- sion that his client took the life of Adams, and following it up by a det:iil of the whole circumstances of this most brutal murder in the first person, as though he himself had been the murderer, ended by telling tlie jury, that his client was "entitled to the sympathy of a jury of his country," as "a young man just entering into life, v-hose jwospects, pro- bably, have been permanenthj blasted." Colt was found guilty ; but a variety of exceptions were taken to the charge by the judge, and after a long series of appeals, which occupied more than a year from the date of conviction, the sentence of death was ratified by Governor Seward. The rest of Colt's story is told in our ballad.] STREAK THE FIRST. * * * * And now the sacred rite Avas done, and the marriage- knot was tied, And Colt Avithdrow hi.s bhishing wife a little way aside ; 46 THE LAY OF MR COLT. " Let's go," he saiil, '' into my cell ; let's go alone, my dear ; I fain would shelter that sweet face from the sheriff's odious leer. Tlie jailer and the hangman, they are waiting both for me, — I cannot bear to see them wink so knowingly at thee ! Oh, how I loved thee, dearest ! They say that I am wild, That a mother dares not trust me with the weasand of her child ; They say my bowie-knife is keen to sliver into halves The carcass of my enemy, as butchers slay their calves. They say that I am stern of mood, because, like salted beef, I packed my quartered foemau up, and marked him 'prime tariff; ' Because I thought to palm him nn the simple-souled John Bull, And clear a small percentage on the sale at Liverpool ; It may be so, I do not know — these things, perhaps, may be ; But surely I have always been a gentleman to thee ! THE LAY OF Mil COLT. 47 Then come, my love, into my cell, short bridal space is ours, — ^N'aj', sheriff, never con thy watch — I guess there's good two linurs. AVe'll shut tlic prison doors and keep the gaping world at bay, For love is long as 'tarnity, though I must die to- day ! " STREAK THE SECOND. The clock is ticking onward, It nears the hour of doom, And no one yet hath entered Into that ghastly room. The jailer and the sheriff, They are walking to and fro : And the hangman sits upon the steps. And smokes his pipe below. In grisly expectation The prison all is bound. And, save expectoration. You cannot hear a sound. 48 THE LAY OF MR COLT. The turnkey stands and ponders, — His liaud upon the Lolt, — " In twenty minutes more, I guess, 'Twill all be up Avitli Colt ! " But see, the door is opened ! Forth comes the weeping bride ; The courteous sheriff lifts his hat. And saunters to her side, — • " I beg your pardon, jMrs C, Eut is your husband ready 1 " " I guess you'd better ask himself," Replied the woeful lady. The clock is ticking onward, The minutes almost run. The haiiginan'.s pipe is nearly out, 'Tis on the stroke of one. At every grated window, Unshaven faces glare ; There's Puke, the judge of Tennessee, And Lynch, of Delaware ; And Batter, with the long black beard, "Whom Hartford's maids know well ; THE LAY OF MR COLT. 49 And Wiiikinson, from Fish Kill IJeach, The pride of ISTew Eochellc ; Elkanah iS'utts, from Tarry Town, The gallant gouging boy ; And 'coon-faced Bushwhack, from the hills That frown o'er modern Troy ; Young Julep, whom our Willis loves, Because, 'tis said, that he One morning from a bookstall filched The tale of " Melanie ; " And Skunk, who fought his country's fight Beneath the stripes and stars, — All thronging at the windows stood, And gazed between the bars. The little boys that stood behind (Yuung thievish imps were they !) Displayed considerable nous On that eventful day ; For bits of broken looking-glass They held aslant on high. And there a mirrored gallows-tree Met their delighted eye.^ 1 A fact. D 50 THE LAY OF MR COLT. The clock is ticking onward ; Hark ! hark ! it striketh one ! Each felon draws a whistling breath, " Time's up with Colt ! he's done ! " The sheriff cons his watch acjain, Then puts it in his fob, And turning to the hangman, says^ — " Get ready for the job." The jailer knocketh loudly. The turnkey draws the bolt, And pleasantly the sheriff says, " We're waiting, ]\Iistcr Colt ! " "No answer ! no ! no answer ! All's still as death within ; The sheriff eyes the jailer, Tlie jailer strokes his chin. "I shouldn't wonder, Xalnim, if It were as you suppose." The liaiigmaii hxihi'd unhappy, and Tlic turnkey blew his nose. THE LAY OF MR COLT. 51 They entered. On his pallet The noble convict lay, — The bridegroom on his marriage-bed IJut not in trim array. His red right hand a razor held, Fresh sharpened from the hone, And his ivory neck was severed, And gashed into the bone. * * * * And ■when the lamp is lighted In the long November days. And lads and lasses mingle At the shucking of the maize ; When pies of sinoking pumpkin Upon the table stand. And bowls of black molasses Go round from hand to hand ; When slap-jacks, maple-sugared, Are hissing in the pan. And cider, Avith a dash of gin, Foams in the social can ; 62 THE LAY OF JIR COLT. When the goodman wets his whistle, And the goodwife scolds the child ; And the girls exclaim convulsively, " Have done, or I'll be riled ! " "When the loafer sitting next them Attempts a sly caress, And whispers, " Oh, you 'possum. You've fixed my heart, I guess ! " "With laughter and Avith weeping, Then shall they tell the tale, How Colt his foeman quartered, And died within the jaiL "The Unwilling CoU." The Death of Jahes Dollar, [Before tlie following poem, which originally appeared in 'Eraser's Magazine,' could have readied Anieriea, intelligence was received in this country of an affray in Congress, very nearly the counterpart of that which the Author has here imagined in jest. It was very clear, to any one who observed the state of public manners at that time in America, that such occurrences must hapjien, sooner or later. The Americans apparently felt the force of the satire, as the poem was widely reprinted throughout the States. It subsequently returned to this country, embodied in an American work on American manners, where it characteristically ap- peared as the writer's own production ; and it afterwards went the round of British ncwsjiapers, as an amusing satire, by an American, of his countrymen's foibles !] The Congress met, the day was wet, Van Buren took the chair ; On either side, the statesman pride of far Kcntuck was there. With moody frown, there sat Calhoun, and slowly in his cheek His quid he thrust, and slaked the dust, as Webster rose to speak. Upon that day, near gifted Clay, a youthful member sat, And like a free American upon the floor he spat ; 54: THE DEATH OP JxVBEZ DOLLAR. Thou turning round to Clay, he said, and wiped his niauly chin, " What kind of Locofoco's that, as wears the painter's skin 1 " " Young man," qi:oth Clay, " avoid the way of Sh'ck of Tennessee ; Of gougers fierce, the eyes that pierce, the fiercest gouger lie ; He chcAvs and spits, as there he sits, and whittles at the chairs, And in his liand, f(ir deadly strife, a howie-knife he bears. "Avoid that knife. In frerpiont strife its blade, so long and thin, . , Has found itself a resting-place his rivals' ribs within." But coward fear came never near young Jabez Dollar's heart, — "Were he an alligator, 1 would rile him pretty smart ! " TIIIi; DEATH OF JABEZ DOLLAR. 55 Then np ho rose, and cleared his nose, and looked toward the cluiir ; lie saw the stately stripes and stars, — our country's llu[. P. Willis for an evening party drest ! We received thee warmly — kindly — though Ave knew thou wert a quiz. Partly for thyself it may be, chiefly for the sake of Phiz! Much we bore, and much we suffered, listening to remorseless spells Of that Smike's unceasing drivellings, and these everlasting Xells. 68 THE American's apostrophe to boz. "When yon talked of baljcs and sunshine, fields, and all that sort of thing, Each Columbian inly chuckled, as he slowly sucked his slmg ; And though all our sleeves were bursting, from the many hundreds near iN'ot one single scornful titter rose on thy complacent ear. Then to show thee to the ladies, Avitli our usual want of sense We engaged the place in Park Street at a ruinous expense ; Even our own three-volumed Cooper waived his old prescriptive right, And deluded Dickens figured first on that eventful night. Clusters of uncoated Yorkers, vainly striving to be cool, Saw thee desperately plunging through the perils of La Poule : And their muttered exclamation drowned the tenor of the tune, — Don't he beat all natur hollow 1 Doii't he foot it like a 'coon 1 " THE American's ArosTROPHE to boz. G9 Did Ave spare dur brandy-cocktails, stint thee of our whisky-grogs 1 Half the juleps that Ave gave thee would have floored a NeAvmau Xoggs ; And thou took'st them in so kindly, little Avas there then to hlanie, To thy parched and panting palate s-\veet as mother's milk they came. Did the hams of old A'irginny find no favour in thine eyes 1 Came no soft compunction o'er thee at the thought of pumpkin pies 1 Could not all our chicken fixings into silence fix thy scorn 1 Did not all our cakes rehuke thee, — Johnny, Avaffle, dander, covnl Could not all our care and coddling teach thee hoAv to draAV it mild 1 "Well, no matter, Ave deserve it. Serves us right ! We spoilt the child! You, forsooth, must come crusading, horing us A\nth broadest hints Of your OAvn peculiar losses by American reprints. 70 THE American's apostrophe to boz. Such an impudent remonstrance never in our face was flung ; Lever stands it, so does Ainswortli ; you, I guess, may liuld your tongue. Down our throats you'd cram your projects, thick and hard as pickled sahnon, That, I s'pose, j'ou call free trading, — I pronounce it utter gammon. No, my lad, a 'cuter vision than your own might soon have seen, That a true Columhiaii ogle carries little that is green ; That we never Avill surrender useful privateering rights, Stoully won at glorious Bunker's Hill, and other famous fights ; That wc keep our native dollars for our native scribbling gents. And on British manufacture only Avaste our strag- gling cents ; Quite enough we pay, I reckon, when we stump of these a few For the voyages and travels of a freshman such as . you. THE American's apostrophe to coz. 71 I have been at Niagara, I liavc stood beneath the Falls, I have marked the water twisting over its rampagious walls ; Cut " a holy calm sensation," one, in fact, of perfect peace, AYas as much my first idea as the thought of Christmas geese. As for " old familiar faces," looking through the misty air, Surely you were strongly liquored when you saw your Chuckster there. One familiar face, however, you Avill very likely see, If you'll only treat the natives to a call in Tennessee, Of a certain individual, true Columbian every inch. In a high judicial station, called by 'mancipators, Lynch. Half an hour of conversation with his worship in a wood, "Would, I strongly notion, do you an infernal deal of good. Then you'd understand more clearly than yoii ever did before. 72 THE American's apostrophe to boz. "Wliy an independent patriot freely spits npon the floor, "Why he gouges when he pleases, "why he ■whittles at the chairs, AVhy for swift and deadly combat still the bowie- knife he bears, — AMiy he sneers at the old country with republican disdain, And, unheedful of the negi'o's cry, still tighter draAvs his chain. All these things the judge shall teach thee of the land thou hast reviled ; Get thee o'er the wide Atlantic, Avorthless London's puling child ! MISCELLANEOUS BALLADS 3WF'- TJie Student Once — 'twas -wlicn I lived at Jena — At a "Wirtbsliaus' door I sat ; And in pensive contemplation Ate the sausage thick and fat; Ate the kraut that never sourer Tasted to my lips than here ; Smoked my pipe of strong canaster. Sipped my fifteenth jug of beer-; Gazed upon the glancing river, Gazed upon the tranquil pool, 7G THE STUDENT OP JENA. "Whence the silver-voiced Undine, When the nights were calm and cool, As the Earon Fouqne tells ns, Eose from out her shelly grot, Casting glamour o'er the waters, Witching that enchanted spot. From the shadow which the coppice Flings across the rippling stream, Did I hear a sound of music — Was it thought or was it dream 1 There, beside a pile of linen, Stretched along the daisied sward, Stood a young and Ijlooming maiden — 'Twas her thrush-like song I heard. Evermore witliin the eddy Did she plunge the white chemise ; And her robes were loosely gathered Ifather far above her knees ; Then my breath at once forsook me. For too surely did I deem Tliat I saw the fair Undine Standing in the glancing stream — And I fi'lt the charm of knighthood ; THE STUDENT OF JENA. 77 And from that remembered day, Every evening to the Wirthshaus Took I my enchanted way. Shortly to relate my story, ]\Iany a week of summer long Came I there, Avlien beer-o'ertaken, "With my lute and "with my song ; Sang in mellow-toned soprano All my love and all my woe. Till the river-maiden ansAvered, Lilting in the stream below : — " Fair Undine ! sweet Undine ! Dost thou love as I love thee 1 " " Love is free as running Avater," Was the ansAver made to me. Thus, in interchange seraphic, Did T Avoo my phantom fay. Till the nights grew long and chilly, Short and shorter grew the day ; Till at last — 'twas dark and gloomy. Dull and starless Avas the sky, 78 THE STUDENT OF JENA, And my steps were all unsteady For a little fluslied was I, — To tlie Avell-accustomed signal !No response the maiden gave ; But I lieard the waters washing And the moaning of the wave. Vanished was my own Undine, All her linen, too, was gone ; And I walked about lamenting On the river bank alone. Idiot that I was, for never Had I asked the maiden's name. "Was it Lieschen — was it Gretchenl Had she tin, or whence she came ? So I took my trusty meerschaum, And I took my lute likewise ; Wandered forth in minstrel fashion, Underneath the louring skies ; Sang before each comely Wirthshaus, Sang beside each purling stream, That same ditty Avhich I chanted AVhen Undine was my theme, Singing, as I sang at Jena, THE STUDENT OF JENA. When tlic sliifts were hung to dry, " Fair Undine ! young Undine ! Dost thou love as well as IV I3ut, alas ! in field or village. Or beside the pebbly shore, Did I see those glancing ankles. And the white robe never more ; And no answer came to greet me, ]S[o sweet voice to mine replied ; But I heard the waters rippling, And the moaning of the tide. 79 " The moaning of the tied." TJie Lay of the Levite. There is a sound that's dear to me, It liaunts me in my sleep ; I wake, and, if 1 hear it not, I cannot choose hut weep. Ahove the roaring of the wind, Ahove tlic river's flow, IMethinks I hear the mystic cry Of " Clo !— Old Clo ! " The exile's sonfc, it thrills among The dwellings of the free, THE LAY OF THE LEVITE. 81- Its sound is strange to English oars, Jkit 'lis not strange to nie ; For it liatli shook tlie tented field In ages long ago, And hosts have quailed before the cry Of " Clo !- -Old Clo ! " Oh, lose it not ! forsake it not ! And let no time efface The memory of that solemn sound, The watchword of our race ; For not Ijy dark and eagle eye The Hebrew shall you know, So well as by the plaintive cry Of "Clo!— Old Clo!" Even now, perchance, by Jordan's banks, Or iSidon's sunny walls. Where, dial-like, to portion time, The palm-tree's shadow falls, The pilgrims, wending on their Avay, "Will linger as they go. And listen to the distant cry Of " Clo !— Old Clo ! " F BtirscJi Groggenburg. [AITER the manner of SCHILLER.] " BuRScn ! if foaming Leer content ye, Come and. drink your fill ; In our cellars there is plenty ; Ilimmel I how you swill ! That the liquor hath alluranco, AVell I understand ; But 'tis really past endurance, When you squeeze my hand ! " UUnSCII GROGGBNBURG. 83 And he heard her as if dreaming, Heard lier half in awe; And the niecrschanni's smoke came streaming O From his open jaw : And liis pulse heat somewhat quicker Than it did before, And he finished off his liquor, Staggered through the door; Bolted off direct to Munich, And within the year Underneath his German tunic Stowed whole butts of beer. And he drank like fifty fishes, Drank till all was blue ; For he felt extremely vicious — Somewhat thirsty too. But at lent^th this dire deboshinix Drew towards an end ; Few of all his silver groschen Had he left to spend. 84 liURSCII GROGGENBURG. And lie knew it was not prudent Longer to remain ; So, Avith weary feet, the student "Wended home again. At the tavern's Avell-known portal Knocks he as before, And a waiter, rather mortal, Hiccups through the door — " Master's sleeping in the kitchen ; You'll alarm the house ; Yesterday the Jnngfrau Fritchen Married baker Kraus ! " Like a fiery comet bristling, Eose the young man's luiir, Anil, poor soul ! he fell a-whistling Out of sheer despair. Down the gloomy street in silence, Savage-calm he goes ; But he did no deed of vi'lence — Only blew his nose. BURSCH GROGGENBURG. 85 'i'licn he hired an airy garret Near lier dwelling-place ; Grew a beard of fiercest carrot, Never washed his face ; Sate all day beside the casement, Sate a dreary man ; Found in smoking such an easement As the wretched can ; Stared for hours and hours together, Stared yet more and more ; Till in fine and sunny Aveathor, At the baker's door, Stood, in apron white and mealy, That belovM dame, Counting out the loaves so freely, Selling of the same. Then like a volcano puffing, Smoked he out his pipe ; Sighed and supped on ducks and stuffing, Ham and kraut and tripe ; 86 BURSCn GROGGENBURG. Went to bed, and, in tlic morning, Waited as before, Still his eyes in anguish turning To the baker's door ; Till, with apron white and mealy, Came the lovely dame. Counting out the loaves so freely. Selling of the same. So one day — the fact's amazing !— On his post he died ! And they found the body gazing At the baker's bride. Niglit and Morning. [NOT BV SIR E. BULWER LYTTON.] "Thy coffee, Tom, 's untasted, And thy egg is very cold ; Thy cheeks are wan and wasted, Not rosy as of old. My boy, Avliat has come o'er ye % You surely are not well ! Try some of that ham before ye, And then, Tom, ring the bell ! " " I cannot eat, my mother, My tongue is parched and l)0und. And my head, somehow or other, Is swimming round and round. 88 NIGHT A\D MORNING. Ill my eyes there is a fulness, And my pulse is Ijcating quick ; On my brain is a weight of dulness : Oh, mother, I am side ! " " These long, long nights of watching Are killing you outright ; The evening dews are catching, And yon'rc out every niglit. AVhy does that horrid grumbler, Old Inkpen, Avork yon so 1 " (Tom — Icne susurrans) " My head ! Oh, that tenth tumbler ! 'Twas that which Avrought my woe ! " The Biter Bit. The sun is in tlie sky, niotlicr, the flowers are springing fair, And the melody of woodland birds is stirring in the air ; The river, smiling to the sky, glides onward to the sea, And happiness is everywhere, oh mother, hut with me ! They are going to the church, mother, — I hear the marriage-bell ; It booms along the upland, — oh ! it haunts me like a knell ; lie leads her on his arm, mother, he cheers her fal- tering step, And closely to his side she clings, — she does, the demirep ! They are crossing Ijy the stile, mother, where we so oft have stood, The stile beside the shady thorn, at the corner of the wood ; 90 THE BITER BIT. And tlio boughs, tliat wont to murmur back the words that won my oar, Wave their silver blossoms o'er him, as he leads his bridal fere. lie will pass beside the stream, mother, where first my hand he pressed, By the meadow where, with quivering lip, his passion he confessed ; And down the hedgerows where we've strayed again and yet again ; Eut he will not think of me, mother, his broken- hearted Jane ! He said that I Avas proud, mother, — that I looked for rank and gold ; He said I did not love him, — he said my words were cold; He said I kept him off and on, in hopes of higher game, — And it may be that I did, mother ; but who hasn't done the same ! I dill not know my heart, mother, — I know it now too late ; THE BITER BIT. 91 I thouglit tliat I without a pang could wed somo nobler mate ; But no nobler suitor sought me, — and he has taken Avmg, And mj heart is gone, and I am left a lone and blighted thing. You may lay me in my bed, mother, — my head is throbbing sore ; And, mother, prithee, let the sheets be duly aired before ; And, if you'd do a kindness to your poor desponding child, Draw me a pot of beer, mother — and, mother, draw it mild ! ' Love gone to pot.' The Meeting. OxCE I lay Leside a fountain, Lulled nie Avith its gentle song, And my thoughts o'er dale and mountain AVith the clouds Avere borne along. There I saAv old castles flinging Shadowy gleams on moveless seas, Saw gigantic forests swinging To and fro without a breeze; And in dusky alleys straying, Many a giant shape of power, Troops of nymphs in sunshine playing. Singing, dancing, liour on hour. T, too, trod these plains Elysian, Heard their ringing tones of mirth, Eut a brighter, fairer vision Called me back again to earth. THE MEETING. 93 From the forest sliadc advancing, See, wliere conies a lovely jNIay ; The dew, like gems, before her glancing, As she brushes it away ! Straight I rose, and ran to meet her, Seized her hand — the heavenly blue Of her eyes smiled brighter, sweeter, As she asked me — -'"'Who are you?" To that question came another — ■ What its aim I still must doubt — And she asked me, " How's your mother ? Does she know that you are out 1 " " No ! my mother does not know it, Beauteous, heaven- descended muse ! " " Then be ofT, my handsome poet. And say I sent you with the news ! " The Convict and the Australian Lady. Thy skin is dark as jet, ladyo, Tliy cheek is sharp and high, And there's a cruel leer, love, "Within thy rolling eye : THE CONVICT AND TUE AUSTRALIAN LADY. 95 These tangled ebon tresses ISTo comb Lath e'er gone through ; And thy forehead, it is furrowed hy The elegant tattoo ! I love thee, — oh, I love thee, Thou strangely-feeding maid ! I^ay, lift not thus thy boomerang, I meant not to upbraid ! Come, let me taste those yellow lips That ne'er were tasted yet. Save Avhen the shipAvrecked mariner Passed tlu'ough them for a whet. I^ay, squeeze me not so tightly ! For I am gaunt and thin ; There's little flesh to tempt thee Beneath a convict's skin. I came not to be eaten ; I sought thee, love, to woo ; Besides, bethink thee, dearest, Thou'st dined on cockatoo. 9G THE CONVICT AND THE AUSTRALIAN LADY. Thy father is a chieftain ! "Why, that's the very thing ! Within my native country I too have been a king. Behokl this branded letter, Which nothing can efface ! It is the royal emblem, The token of my race ! Eut rebels rose against me, And ilarcd my power disown — You've heard, love, of the judges 1 They drove nie from my tlirone. And I have wandered hither. Across the stormy sea, In search of glorious freedom, — In search, my sweet, of tliee ! The Ijusli is now my empire. The knife my sceptre keen ; Come Avith me to the desert wild, And be my dusky queen. THE CONVICT AND THE AUSTUALl I cannot give tliee jewels, I have nor sheep nor cow, Yet there are kangaroos, love, And colonists enow. "We'll meet tlie unwary settler, As whistling home he goes. And I'll take tribute from him. His money and his clothes. Then on his bleeding carcass Thou'lt lay thy pretty paw. And lunch upon him roasted, Or, if you like it, raw ! Then come with me, my princess. My own Australian dear. Within this grove of gum-trees "We'll hold our bridal cheer ! Thy heart with love is beating, I feel it through my side : — Hurrah, then, for the noble pair. The Convict and his Bride ! G AN LAIiV. 07 The Doleful Lay of the Honourable I. O. Uwins. Come and listen, lords and ladies, To a woeful lay of mine ; lie "whose tailor's bill unpaid is, Let liini now his ear incline ! Let him hearken to my story, How the noblest of the land Pined in piteous purgatory, 'I^eatli a sponging Bailiff's hand. I. 0. Uwins ! I. 0. Uwins ! Baron's son although thou be, Thou nnist pay for thy misdoings In the country of the free ! Xone of all thy sire's retainers To tliy rescue now may come ; And there lie some score detainers y\'\W\ Abcdiiego, tliu bum. THE POLKFUL LAY OF I. O. UWINS. 09 Little recked lie of his prison "Whilst the sun Avas in the sky : Only when the moon was risen Did you hear the captive's cry. For till then, cigars and claret Lvdled him in oblivion sweet ; And he much preferred a garret, For his drinking, to the street. But the moonlight, pale and broken, Pained at soul the baron's son ; For he knew, by that soft token, That the larking had be<:run ; — That the stout and valiant Marquis Then was leading forth his swells, Milling some policeman's carcass. Or purloining private bells. So he sat in grief and sorrow, Eatlier drunk than otherwise, Till the golden gush of morrow Dawned once more upon his eyes : TOO THE DOLEFUL LAY OF I. O. UWIXS. Till the sponging Bailiffs daughter, Lightly tapping at the door, Brought his draught of soda-water, Brandy-bottomed as before. " Sweet Rebecca ! has your father, Think you, made a deal of brass 1 " And she answered — " Sir, I rather Should imagine that he has." Uwins then, his whiskers scratching, Leered upon the maiden's face. And, her hand with ardour catchmg, Folded her in close embrace. '•'La, Sir ! let alone — you fright me !" Said the daughter of the Jew : " Dearest, how those eyes delight me ! Let me love thee, darling, do ! " " Vat is dish 1 " the Bailiff muttered, liushing in with fury wild; " Ish your mufifins so veil buttered, Dat you darsh insult ma shild 1 " THE DOLEFUL LAY OF L O. UWINS, 101 " Ilonourable my intentions, Good Abednego, I swear ! And I liavc some small pretensions, For I am a Baron's lieir. If you'll (inly clear my credit, And advance a thou^ or so, She's a peeress — I have said it : Don't you twig, Abednego 1 '' '' Datsh a very different matter," Said the Bailiff, with a leer ; " But you musht not cut it fatter Than ta slisli will shtand, ma tear ! If you secksh ma approbation, You musht (juitc give up your rigsh, Alsho you musht join our nashun, And renounsh ta flesh of pigsh.'"' Fast as one of Fagin's pupils, I. 0. Uwins did agree ! Little plagued with holy scruples From the starting-post was he. 1 The fashionable abbreviation for a thousand pounds. 102 THE DOLEFUL LAY OF I. O. UWINS. But at times a baleful vision Rose before his slmdderiiig view, For he knew that circumcision Was expected from a Jew. At a meeting of the Eabbis, Held about the "WJiitsuntide, "Was this thorough-paced Barabbas Wedded to his Hebrew Ijride : All his previous debts compounded, From the sponging-house he came, And his father's feelings wounded With reflections on the same. But the sire his son accosted — " Split my wig ! if any more Sucli a double-dyed apostate .Shall presume to cross my door ! Kot a penny-piece to save ye From tlie kennel or the spout; — Dinner, Jolui : tlie pig and gravy ! — Kick this dirty scoundrel out ! " Forth rushed I. 0. Uwins, faster Than all Avinking — much afraid TUE DOLEFUL LAY OF I. O. UWIXS. 103 That the orders of the master "Would be punctually obeyed : Souglit his club, and then tlie sentence Of expulsion first he saAv ; No one dared to own acquaintance "With a Bailiff's son-in-laAv. Uselessly, down Bond Street strutting, Did he greet his friends of yore : Such a universal cutting Never man received before : Till at last his pride revolted — Pale, and lean, and stern he grew ; And liis Avife Eebecca bolted "With a missionary Jew. Ye who read this doleful dittj'^ Ask ye where is Uwins noAv ? "Wend your Avay through London city, Climb to Holborn's lofty broAv ; Near the sign -post of the " Nigger," Near the baked-j^otato shed, You may see a ghastly figure "With three hats iipon liis head. 104 THE DOLEFUL LAY OF I. O. UWIXS. When the evening shades arc dusky, Then tlie phantom form dra^vs near, And, with accents low and liiisky, Pours effluvium in your ear ; Craving an immediate barter Of j-oiir trousers or surtout ; And you know the HebrcAV martyr, Once the peerless I. 0. U. i^ rr mMJt' ' The Knyghtc and the Tayhcoiirs Daughter. Did you ever hear the story — Old the legend is, and true — • How a knyghtc of fame and glory All aside his armour threw ; lOG THE KNYGHTE AND TAYLZEOUr's DAUGHTER. Spouted spear and pawned habergeon, Pledged liis sword and surcoat gay, Sate down cross-legged on the shop-board, Sate and stitched the livelong day 1 " Taylzeour ! not one single .shilling Does luy In-eeches-pockut hold : I to pay am really willing, If I only had the gold. Farmers none can I encounter. Graziers there are none to kill ; Therefore, prithee, gentle ta}dzeour, Bother not about thy bill." " Good Sir Knyghte, just once too often Have you tried that slippery trick ; Hearts like mijic yoTi cannot soften, Vainly (b) yon ask for tick. Christmas and its bills are coming, Soon Avill they be showering in ; Therefore, once for all, my rum un, I expect you'll post the tin. TUE KNYGHTE A\D TAYLZEOUR S DAUGHTEIl. " Mark, Sir Knyghte, that gloomy bayliffe In the pahner's amice brown ; He shall lead you unto jail, if Instantly you stump not down." Deeply swore the young crusader, But the taylzeour would not hear ; ' And the gloomy, bearded baylill'e Evermore kept sneaking near. " jN"either groat nor maravedi Have I got my soul to bless ; And I'd feel extremely seedy. Languishing in vile duresse. Therefore listen, rutliless taylzeour, Take my steed and armour free, Pawn them at thy Hebrew uncle's, And I'll w(n'k the rest for tliee." Lightly leaped he on the shop-board, Lightly crooked his manly liml), Lightly drove the glancing needle Through the growing doublet's rim. 107 108 THE KNYGHTE AXD TAYLZEOUr's DAUGHTER. Gaberdines in coimtless niuuber Did the taylzeour knj-glite repair, And entirely on cucumber And on cabbage lived lie there. Once his weary task beguiling AVith a low and plaintive song, That good knyghte o'er miles of broadcloth Drove the hissing troose alonff ; From her lofty latticed window Looked the taylzeour's daughter down. And she instantly discovered That her heart was not her own, " Canst thou love me, gentle stranger ? " Picking at a pink she stood — • And the knyghte at once admitted That he rather thought he could. " He who weds me shall have riches, Gold, and lands, and houses free." " For a single pair of — iOiuin-clotlLPH, I would roam the world with thee ! " THE KXYGHTE AND TAYLZEOUU'.S DAUGHTER. 109 Then she flung him down the tickets Well the knyghte their import know — " Take this gold, and win thy armour From the unbelieving Jew. Though in garments mean and lowly Thou wouldst roam the world with me. Only as a belted warrior, Stranger, will 1 wed with thee ! " 110 TIIK KXYGIITB AND TAYLZEOUR's DAUGHTER. At the feast of good Saint Stitchem, In the middle of the spring, There was some superior jousting, By the order of the King. "Valiant knyghtes !" proclaimed the monarch, " You Avill please to luiderstand, He Avho hears himself most hravely Shall oh tain my daughter's hand." AVeU and hravely did they hear them, Bravely hattled, one and all ; But the hravest in the tourney AVas a Avarrior stout and tall. None could tell his name or lineage, 'None could meet him in the field, And a goose regardant proper Hissed along Ids azure shield. ""Warrior, thou hast avo71 my daughter!" But Ihi' champion ])0wcd his knee, "Royal Idood may not he wasted On a simple knyghte like me. THE KNYGHTE AND TAYLZEOUr's DAUGHTER. Ill She T love is meek and lowly ; T5ut liev licart is kind and free ; Also, there is tin forthcoming, Though she is of low degree." Slowly rose that nameless Avarrior, SloMdy turned liis steps aside, Passed the lattice where the princess Sate in beauty, sate in pride. Passed the row of nohle ladies, Hied him to an humbler seat, And in silence laid the chaplet At the taylzeour's daughter's feet. The Midnight Visit. It was tlie Lord of Castlereagb, lie sat within liis room, His arms were crossed upon liis Lreast, las face was marked with gloom ; They said that St Helena's Isle had rendered np its cliarge, That France was bristling high in arms — the Em- peror at large. THE MIDNIGHT VISIT. 113 'Twas midnight ! all the lamps were dim, and dull as death the street. It might he that the -watchman slept that night npon his beat, AVlieu lo ! a heavy foot Avas heard to creak upon the stair. The door revolved upon its hinge — Great Heaven ! — "What enters there \ A little man, of stately mien, Avitli sIoav and solemn stride ; His hands are crossed upon his back, his coat is opened wide ; And on his vest of green he wears an eagle and a star, — Saint George ! protect us ! 'tis The jNIan, — the thun- der-bolt of war ! Is that the famous hat that waved along ]\rarengo's ridge 1 Are these the spurs of Austerlitz — the boots of Lodi's bridge ? II 114 THE MIDXIGIIT VISIT. Leads lie the conscript swarm again from France's hornet hive 1 "What seeks the fell usurper here, in Eritain, and alive ? Pale grew the Lord of Castlereagh, his tongue was parched and dry, As in his brain he felt the glare of that tremendous eye; "What wonder if he shrank in fear, for who could meet the glance Of him who rear'd, 'mid Eussiaii snows, the gonfalon of France 1 From the side-pocket of his vest a pinch the despot took, Yet not a whit did he relax the sternness of his look : '■ Thou thoughtst the li(jn Avas afiir, Ijut he hath hurst the chain — The watclnvord for to-night is France — the answer 8t Ilelene. THE MIDXIGHT VISIT. 115 " And didst thou deem the harrcii isle, or ocean ■waves, could hind The master of the universe — the inonarcli of man- kind? I tell thee, fool ! the world itself is all too small for me; I laugh to scorn thy holts and hars — I hurst them, " and am free. " Thou thinkst that England hates me ! Mark ! — This very night my name "Was thundered in its capital with tumult and ac- claim ! They saw me, knew me, owned my power — Proud lord ! I sa}', heware ! There he men Avithin the Surrey side, who knoAV to do and dare ! "To-morrow in thy very teeth my standard will I rear — Ay, Avell that ashen cheek of thine may l)lanch and shrink with fear ! IIG THE MinXIGnX VISIT. To-morrow night another town shall sink in ghastly llames ; And as I crossed the Eorodin, so shall I cross the Thames ! " Thou'lt seize me, wilt thou, ere the daAvn 1 Weak lordling, do thy worst ! These hands ere noAV have broke thy chains, thy fetters they have hurst. Yet, wouldst thou know my resting-place ? Behold, 'tis written there ! And let thy coward myrmidons approach me if they dare ! " Another pinch, another stride — he passes through the door — " Was it a phantom or a man was standing on the floor ? And could that ho tlic Emperor tlmt moved before my eyes ? Ah, yes ! too sure it was himself, fur here the paper lies ! " THE MIDNIGHT VISIT. 117 Witli trembling hands Lord Castlereagli undid tlie mystic scroll, With glassy eye essayed to read, for fear was on his soul — " What's here 1 — ' At Astley's, every niglit, the play of Moscow's Fall ! K'apoleon, for the thousandth time, by Mr Gomer- SAL ! '" The Lay of the Lovelorn. Comrades, yon may pass tlie rosy. With permission of the cliair, I sliall leave you for a littlej for I'd like to take tlie air. Whether 'twas tlie sauce at dinuer, or that glass of ginger-beer, Or these strong cheroots, T know not, hut T feel a little queer. TIIK LAY OF TITK LOVELORJf. 119 Lot nie go. iSI^ay, Chuckster, Llow mo, 'pon my soul, this is too bad ! When you want me, ask the waiter ; ho knows where I'm to be had. AVhew ! This is a great relief now ! Let me but undo my stock ; Resting here beneath the porch, my nerves will steady like a rock. In my ears I hear the singing of a lot of favourite tunes — ■ Bless my heart, how very odd ! Why, surely there's a brace of moons ! See ! the stars ! how bright they twinkle, winking with a frosty glare, Like my faithless cousin Amy when she drove me to despair. Oh, my cousin, spider-hearted ! Oh, my Amy ! Xo, confound it ! I must wear the mournful willow, — all around my lieart I've bound it. 120 THE LAY OF THE LOVELORN. Falser than the bank of fancy, frailer than a shilling glove, Puppet to a father's anger, minion to a nahoh's love ! Is it well to wish thee happy 1 Having known me, could you ever Stoop to marry half a heart, and little more than half a liver? Happy ! Damme ! Thou shalt lower to his level day l.y day. Changing from the best of china to the commonest of clay. As the husband is, the wife is, — he is stomach- plagued and old ; And his curry soups will make thy cheek the colour of his gold. "When his feeble love is sated, he will hold thee surely then Something lower than his hookah, — something less than his cayenne. THE LAY OF THE LOVELORN. 121 What is this 1 His eyes are pinky. "NVas't the claret ? Oh, no, no, — Bless yoiir soul ! it was the salmon, — salmon always makes him so. Take him to thy dainty chamber — soothe him with thy lightest fancies ; He will understand thee, won't he 1 — pay thee with a lover's "lances 1 o Louder than the loudest trumpet, harsh as harshest ophicleide, Nasal respirations answer the endearments of his bride. Sweet response, delightful music ! Gaze upon thy noble charge, Till the spirit fill thy bosom that inspired the meek Laffarge. Better thou wert dead before me, — better, better that I stood, Looking on thy murdered body, like the injured Daniel Good ! 122 THE LAY OF THE LOVELORX. Better thou and 1 were lying, cold and timber-stiff and dead, AYitli a pan of Inu'ning charcoal underneath our nuptial bed ! Cursed be the Bank of England's notes, that tempt the soul to sin ! Cursed be the want of acres, — doubly cursed the want of tin ! Cursed be the marriage-contract, that enslaved thy soul to greed ! Cursed bo the sallow lawyer, that i)ri'pared and drew the deed ! Cursed be his bnd iipprentice, who the loathsome fees did earn ! Cursed be the clcik and ]iarson, — cursed be tlie Avhole concern ! * THE LAY OP THE LOVELORN. 123 Oh, 'tis well tliat I sliould bluster, — mucli I'm like to make of that ; Better comfort have I found in sincrinc;" "All Around O O my Hat." But that song, so Avildly plaintive, palls upon my British ears. 'Twill not do to pine for ever,- — T am getting up in years. Can't I turn the lionest penny, scribbling for the Aveekly press, And in Avriting Sunday libels drown my private Avretchedness 1 Oh, to feel the wild pulsation that in manhood's dawn I knew, A\'hen my days were all before me, and my years were twont3^-two ! 121 THE LAY OF THE LOVELORN. "\ATien I smoked my independent pipe along the Quadrant Avide, Willi the many larks of London flaring up on every side; When I went the pace so wildly, caring little what might come ; Coffee-milling care and sorrow, with a nose-adapted thumb ; Felt the exquisite enjoyment, tossing nightly off, oh heavens ! Brandies at the Cider Cellars, kidneys smoking-hot at Evans' ! Or in the Adelphi sitting, half in rapture, half in tears. Saw the glorious melodrama conjure up the shades of years ! Saw Jack Sheppard, noble strijiling, act his wondrous feats again, Snapping Newgate's bars of iron, like an infant's daisy chain. THE LAY OP THE LOVELORN. 125 Miglit was right, and all the terrors, -which had held the ■world in awe. Were despised, and prigging prospered, spite of Laurie, spite of law. In such scenes as these I triumphed, ere my passion's edge was rusted, And my cousin's cold refusal left me very much dis- gusted ! Since, my heart is sere and withered, and I do not care a curse, "Whether worse shall he the better, or the better be the worse. Hark ! my merry comrades call me, bawling for another jorum ; They would mock me in derision, should I thus appear before 'em. Womankind no more shall vex me, such at least as go arrayed In the most expensive satins and the newest silk brocade. 12G THE LAY OF THE LOVELORN. I'll to Afric, liou-haunted, wliere the giant forest yields liaror roLcs and finer tissue tlian are sold at Spital fields. Or to T)urst all cliains of habit, flinging habit's self aside, I shall walk the tangled jungle in mankind's primeval pride ; Feeding on the luscious berries and the rich cassava root, Lots of dates and lots of guavas, clusters of forbidden fruit. « jS'ever comes the trader thither, never o'er the purple main Sounds the oatli of British commerce, or the accent of Cockaigne. There, methinks, would be enjoyment, where no envious rule prevents; Sink the steamboats ! cuss the railways ! rot, 0 rot the Three per Cents ! TIIK LAY OF THE LOVELORN. 127 There the passions, cramjicd no longer, sliall have space to breathe, my cousin ! I -will wed some savage woman — nay, I'll wed at least a dozen. There I'll rear my young mulattoes, as no Bond Street brats are reared : They shall dive for alligators, catch the wild goats by the beard — Whistle to the cockatoos, and mock the hairy-faced baboon, AVorship mighty ]\Iumbo Jumbo in the Mountains of the j\Ioon. I myself, in far Timbuctoo, leopard's blood Avill daily quaff, Eide a tiger-hunting, mounted on a tliorough-bred giraffe. Fiercely shall I shout the war-whoop, as some sullen stream he crosses. Startling from their noonday slumbers iron-bound rhinoceroses. 128 THE LAY OF THE LOVELORN. Fool ! again the dream, the faucy ! But I know my words are mad, For I hold the grey barbarian lower than the Chris- tian cad. I the swell — the city dandy ! I to seek such horrid places, — I to haunt with squalid negroes, blubber-lips, and monkey-faces ! I to wed Avith Coromantees ! I, who managed — very near — To secure the heart and fortune of the Avidow Shilli- beer ! Stuff and nonsense ! let me never fling a single chance away ; Maids ere now, I know, have loved me, and another maiden may. ' Morning Post ' (' The Times ' won't trust me) help me, as I know you can ; I will pen an advertisement, — that's a never-failing plan. I TllK LAY OF THE LOVELORN. 129 "Wanted — By a bard, in Avedlock, r^J*' some young interesting -woman : ,v1JL^ ^ Looks are not so much an object, if the ' \ sliiners be forthcomincr ! " Hymen's chains the advertiser vows shall be but silken fetters ; Please address to A. T., Chelsea. X.B. — You must pay the letters." That's the sort of thing to do it. Now I'll go and taste the balmy,- — ■ Eest thee with thy yellow nabob, spider- hearted Cousin Amy ! ia.* %mA My IVifes Cousin Decked witli shoes of blackest polisli, And witli shirt as white as snow, After early morning breakfast To my daily desk I go ; First a fond salute bestowing On my Mary's ruby lips, AVhich, perchance, may be rewarded With a pair of playful nips. All day long across the ledger Still my patient pen I drive, Thinking what a feast awaits me In my happy home at five ; r L •^. .^: MY wife's cousin. 131 In my small one-storeyed Eden, Where my wife awaits my coming, And our solitary handmaid ]\Iutton-chops with care is crumbing. "When the clock proclaims my freedom, Then my hat I seize and vanish ; Every trouble from my bosom, Every anxious care I banish. Swiftly brushing o'er the pavement, At a furious pace I go, Till I reach my darling dwelling In the wilds of Pimlico. " Mary, wife, where art thou, dearest 1 " Thus I cry, while yet afar; Ah ! what scent invades my nostrils ? — 'Tis the smoke of a cigar ! Instantly into the parlour Like a maniac I haste, And I find a young Life-Guardsman, "With his arm round ^^lary's waist. 132 MY \VI1'K'« cousix. Ami his other hand is phiying INIost familiarly with hers ; And I think my lirussels carpet Somewhat damaged by his spurs. " Fire and furies ! what the Ijlazes 1 " Thus in frenzied wrath I call ; "When my spouse her arms upraises, AVith a most astounding squall. " "Was there ever such a monster, Ever such a wretched Avife 1 Ah ! how long must I endure it, How protract this hateful life ] All day long, quite unprotected, Does he leave liis Avife at home ; And she cannot see her cousins, Even when they kindly come ! " Tlien the young Life-Guardsman, rising. Scarce vouchsafes a single w^ord. But, with look of deadly menace, Claps his hand upon his sword ; MY wife's cousin. 133 And in fear I faintly falter — " This yonr cousin, then he's mine ! Very glad, indeed, to see you, — Won't you stop with us, and dine 1 " Won't a ferret suck a ral )l)it ] — As a thing of course he stops ; And with most voracious swallow Walks into my mutton-chops. In the twinkling of a bed-post Is each savoury platter clear, And he shows uncommon science In his estimate of beer. Half-and-half goes down before him. Gurgling from the pewter pot ; And he moves a counter motion For a glass of something hot. K"either chops nor beer I grudge him, Xor a moderate share of goes ; But I know not why he's always Treading upon Mary's toes. 134 MY wife's cousin. Evermore, wlien, home returning, From the connting-house I come, Do I find the young Life-Guardsman Smoking pipes and drinking rum. Evermore he stays to dinner, Evermore devours my meal ; For I liave a "wholesome horror Both of powder and of steel. Yet I know he's Mary's cousin, For my only son and heir Much resembles that young Guardsman, "With the self -same curly hair; But I wish he would not always Spoil my carpet Avith his spurs ; And I'd rather see his fingers In the fire, than touching hers. The Queen in France. AN ANCIENT SCOTTISH BALLAD. PART I. It fell upon the August month, When landsmen bide at hame, That our gude Queen went out to sail Upon the saut-sea faem. 13G THE QUEEN IX FRANCE. And she has ta'en the silk and gowd, The hke Avas never seen ; And she has ta'en the Prince Albert, And the bauld Lord Aberdeen. " Ye'se bide at hanie. Lord "Wellington : Ye daurna gang wi' me : For ye hae been ance in the land o' France, And that's eneuch for ye. " Ye'se bide at hame, Sir Eobert Peel, To gather the red and the white nionic ; And see that my men dinna eat me up At Windsor -wi' their "luttonie." o They hadna sailed a league, a league, — A league, but barely twa, "When the lift grew dark, and the waves grew wan. And the wind bef^an to blaw. -O'' " 0 weel weel may tlie waters rise, In Avelcome o' tlieir (^)ueen; What gars ye look sae wliitc, Albert ? Wliat makes yer ee sae green 1 " THE QUEEN IN FRANCE. 137 " My heart is sick, my hoid is sair : Gic me a glass o' the gude brandie : To set my foot on the braid green sward, I'd gie the half o' my yearly fee. " It's sweet to hunt the sprightly hare On the bonny slopes o' "Windsor lea, Bvit oh, it's ill to bear the thud And pitching o' the saut saut sea ! " And aye they sailed, and aye they sailed, Till England sank behind, And over to the coast of France They drave before the Avind. Then up and spalc the King o' France, "Was birling at the wine ; " 0 wha may be the gay ladye. That owns that ship sae fine 1 " And wha may be that bonny lad, That looks sae pale and Avan ? I'll wad my lands o' Picardie, That he's nae Englishman." 138 THE QUEEN IN FRANCE. Then \ip and spak an anld Frencli lord, . Was sitting beneatli his knee, " It is the Queen o' braid England That's come across the sea." " And oh an it be England's Queen, She's welcome here the da}^ ; I'd rather hae her for a friend Than for a deadly fae. " Gae, kill the eerock in the yard, •The auld sow in the sty. And bake for her the brockit calf, ]Jut and the puddock-jDie ! " And he has gane until the ship, As soon as it drew near, And he has ta'cn her by the hand — " Ye're kindly welcome here ! " And syne he kissed her on ae cheek. And syno ujion the ithor; And he ca'd her his sister dear, And she ca'd him her brither. THE QUEEN IN FRANCE. 139 " Light doun, light doun now, ladj^e mine, Light doun upon the shore ; E'ae English king has trodden here This thousand years and more." "And gin I lighted on your land, As light fu' weel I may, 0 am I free to feast wi' you. And free to come and gae 1 " And he has sworn by the Haly Kood, . And the black stane o' Dumblane, That she is free to come and gae Till twenty days are gane. " I've lippened to a Frenchman's aith," Said gude Lord Aberdeen ; " But I'll never lippen to it again, Sae lang's the grass is green. " Yet gae your ways, my sovereign liege. Sin' better mayna be ; The wee bit bairns are safe at hame, By the blessing o' ^Marie ! " 140 THE QUEEX IX FRANCE. Then doun she lighted frae the ship, She liglited safe and sound ; And glad Avas our good Prince Albert To step upon the ground. " Is that your Queen, my Lord," she said, " That auld and huirdly dame 1 I see the crown upon her head ; Lut I dinna ken her name." ^Vnd she has kissed the Frenchman's Queen, And eke her daughters three, And gien her hand to the young Princess, That louted upon the knee. And she has gane to the proud castel, That's Liggit beside the sea : Jiut aye, Avhen she thought o' the bairns at hamc. The tear was in her ee. She gied the King the Cheshire cheese, But and the porter fine ; And he gied her Hh; jniddnck-jiics, But and the blude-red wine. THE QUEEN IX FRANCE. 141 Then up anil spak Ihu dourest Prince, An admiral was he ; '• Let's keep the Queen o' England here, Sin' better niayna be ! " 0 mony is the dainty king That we liae trappit here; And mony is the English yerl That's in our dungeons drear ! " " You lee, you lee, ye graceless loon, Sae loud's I hear ye lee ! There never yet was Englishman That came to skaith by me. " Gae oot, gae out, ye fause traitour ! Gae oot until tlie street; It's shame that Kings and Queens should sit AVi' sic a knave at meat ! " Then up and raise tlie young Erench lord, In wratli and liie disdain — "0 ye may sit, and ye may eat Your puddock-pies alane ! 142 THE QUEEN IN FRANCE. " But -were I in my ain gude sliip, Ami sailing w'l the wind, And did I meet wi' anld Xapicr, I'd tell him o' my mind." 0 then the Queen leuch loud and lang, And her colour went and came ; " Gin ye meet wi' Charlie on the sea, Ye'll wish yersel at liame ! " And aye they birlit at the wine, And drank richt mcrrilie, Till the auld cock crawed in the castle-yard, And the abbey bell struck three. The Queen she gaed until lier bed, And Prince Albert likewise ; And the last word that gay ladyo said AVas — " 0 thae puddock-pies ! " THE QUEKN IN FRANCE. 143 PART I!. The sun was higli -within the lift Afore the French King raise ; And syne he louped intil his sark, And "warsHt on his claes. " Gae up, gae up, my little foot-page, Gae up until the toun ; And gin ye meet wi' the auld harper. Be sure ye bring him doun." And he has met Avi' the auld harper; 0 but his een "were reid ; And the bizzing o' a swarm o' bees AVas singing in his heid. " Alack ! alack ! " the harper said, " That this should e'er hae been ! I daurna gang before my liege, For I was fou yestreen." 141 THE QUEEN IX FRANCE, " It's ye maun come, ye auld harper : Ye daurna tarry lang ; The Khiu is iu.st dementit-like For wanting o' a sang." And when he came to the King's chamher, He loutit on his knee, " 0 what may be your gracious will Wi' an auld frail man like me 1 " " I want a sang, harper," he said, " I want a sang riclit speedilie ; And gin ye dinna make a sang, I'll hang ye up on the gallows tree." '• I canna do't, my liege," he said, " Hae mercy on my auld grey hair ! But gbi that I had got the words, I think tliat I ]night niak the air." " And wha's to mak the words, fause loon, "When minstrels we have barely twa ; And Lamartine is in Paris toun, And Victor Hugo far awa ? " THE QUKEX IX FRAN-CE. 145 " The did may gang for Lamartine, And liee away wi' auld Hugo, Tor a Lotter minstrel than them Laith Within this very toun I know. " 0 kens my liege the gude "Walter, At hame they ca' him Eox Gaultier ? He'll rhyme ony day wi' True Thomas, And he is in the castle here." The French King first he lanchit loud, And syne did he Ijegin to sing ; "My een are auld, and my heart is cauld, Or I suld hae knoAvn the minstrels' King. '•' Gae take to him this ring o' goAvd, And this mantle o' the silk sae fine. And bid him mak a maister sang For his sovereign ladye's sake and mine." "I winna take the goAvden ring, Xor yet the mantle fine : But I'll mak the sang for my ladye's sake. And for a cup of wine." K 1-lG THE QUEEX IN FRANCE. The Queen "was sitting at the cards, 'JliL' King aliint lifi' Lack ; And aye she dcaled tlie red honours, And aye she dealed the black ; And syne nnto tlio dourest Prince She sjiak richt courteouslie ; — "Xow Avill ye play, Lord Admiral. l^ow will ye play wi' nie 1 " The dourest Prince he hit his lip, And liis hrow was hlack as glaur; ''The only game that e'er I play Is the hluidy game o' war !" " And gin ye play at that, young man, It Aveel may cost ye sair ; Ye'd better stick to the game at cards, For yon'U Avin iiac honours there ! " The King he leuch, and the Queen she leucli, Till the tears ran blithely doon ; But the Admiral lie raved and swore. Till they kicked liim i'rac the room. I THE QUEEN IX FRANCE. 147 The harper came, and llie liarper sang, And oh hut tliey were fain ; For when he had sung the gude sang twice, They called for it again. It was the sang o' tlie Field o' Gowd, In the days of auld langsyne ; When bauld King Henry crossed the seas, AVi' his brither King to dine. o And aye he harped, and aye he carped, Till up the Queen she sprang — '■' I'll wad a County Palatine, Gude Walter made that san"" •o" Three days had come, three days had gane. The fourth began to fa'. When our gude Queen to the Frenchman said, '■ It's time I was awa ! " 0, bonny are the fields o' France, And saftly draps the rain ; But my bairnies are in Windsor Tower, And greeting a' their lane. 148 THE QUEEN I\ FRANCE. " Xow ye maun come to me, 8ir King, As I ImA'e come to ye ; And a benison upon your lieid For a' your courtesie ! " Ye maun come, and bring your ladye fere ; Ye sail na say me no ; And ye'se mind, we have aye a bed to sjmre For tliat gawsy cliield Guizot." Xow he has ta'en her lily-Avhitc hand, And put it to his lip, And he has ta'en her to the strand, And left her in her ship. " Will ye come back, sweet bird 1 " lie cried, " "Will ye come kindly here, When the lift is blue, and the lavrocks sing, In the spring-time o' the year?" " It's I would blithely come, my Lord, To see ye in the spring; It's I would blithely venture back But for ae little thinu. THE QUEEN IN FRANCE. " It isna that I ho winds aro rude, Or that the Avaters rise, But I loe tlie roasted beef at hame, And no thae puddock-pies ! '' U9 The Massacre of the Macpherson. [from the GAELIC] FnAiRSHON swore a feud Against tlie clan ^NI'Tavish; ^RFarclied into their land To nnnd(;r and to I'afisli : THE MASSACRE OF THE MACPHERSOX. 151 For lie did resolve To extirpate tlio vipers, With fonr-and-twcnty men And five-and-thirty pipers. II. But wlien he had gone Half-way down Strath Canaan, Of his fiifhtin" tail Just three were remainin'. They were all he had, To back him in ta battle; All the rest had gone Off, to drive ta cattle. ni. " Fery coot ! " cried Fhairshon, "So my clan disgraced is; Lads, we'll need to fight, Pefore we touch the peasties. 152 THE MASSACRE OF THE MACPHERSON. Here's ^Mhic^ruc-Metlmsaleli Coming Avi' his fassals, Gillies seventy-three, And sixty Dhuinewassails I " IV. " Coot tay to you, sir ; Are you not ta Fhairshon 1 "Was you coming here To fisit any person? You arc a plackguard, sir ! It is now six: lumdred Coot long years, and more. Since my glen was plundered." " Fat is tat you say 1 Dare you cock your peaver ] T will teach you, sir, Fat is coot pehaviour ! THE MASSACRE OF THE MACPHERSON. 153 You shall not exist For another clay more ; I will shoot you, sir, Or stap you with my claymore ! " YL " I am fery glad, To learn what you mention, Since I can prevent Any such intention." So ]\[hic-j\[ac-Methusaleh Gave some warlike howls, Trew his skhian-dhu. An' stuck it in his powels. VIL In this fery way Tied ta faliant Fhairshon, "Who was always thought A superior person. 154 THE MASSACRE OF THE MACPHERSOX. Fliairshon had a son^ "\Mio married Xoah's daughter, And nearly spoiled ta Flood, By trinking up ta water : VIII. "\^^lich he would have done, I at least pelieve it, Had ta mixture peen Only half Glenlivet, This is all my tale : Sirs, 1 hope 'tis new t'yc ! Here's your fery good healths, And tamn ta whusky duty ! The Young Stockbroker s Bride. " 0 SWIFTLY speed the gallant bark I — I say, you mind my luggage, porter ! I do not lieed yon storm-cloud dark, I go to wed old Jenkin's daughter. I go to claim my own Mariar, The fairest flower that blooms in Harwich ; My panting bosom is on fire, And all is ready for the marriage." 156 THE YouxG stockbroker's bride. Tlius spoke young INIivins, as he stepped On "board the " Firefly," Harwich packet ; The bell rang out, the paddles swept Plish-plashing round with noisy racket. The louring clouds j'oung Mivins saw, But fear, he felt, Avas only folly ; And so he smoked a fresh cigar, Then fell to Avhistling " Nix my dolly ! " The -wind it roared ; the packet's hulk Eocked with a most unpleasant motion ; Young Mivins lent him o'er a bulk, And poured his sorrows to the ocean. Tints — blue and yellow — signs of woe — Flushed, rainbow-like, his noble face in, As suddenly he rushed below, Crying, '•' Steward, steward, bring a basin ! " On sped the bark : the howling storm The funnel's tapering smoke did blow far ; Unmoved, young ^Mivins' lifeless form "Was stretched upon a haircloth sofa?'. THE YOUNG STOCKBROKER'S BRIDE. 157 All niglit he moaned, the steamer groaned, And lie was hourly getting fainter ; "When it came Lump against the pier, And there was fastened by the painter. Young Mivins rose, arranged his clothes, Caught wildly at his small portmanteau ; He was unfit to lie or sit, And found it difficult to stand, too. He sought the deck, he sought the shore. He sought the lady's house like winking, And asked, low tapping at the door, " Is tliis the house of ]\Ir Jenkin 1 " A short man came — he told his name — Mivins was short — he cut him shorter. For in a fury he exclaimed, " Are you the man as vants my darter ? Vot kim'd on you, last night, young S(|vire 1 " " It was the steamer, rot and scuttle her ! " " ^layhap it vos, but our ]\Iaria/" Yalked off last ni>dit Avith liill the butler. 158 THE YOUNG STOCKBROKER'S BRIDE. " And so j-Qu've kiiiiVl a post too late." " It was the packet, sir, miscarried ! '"' " Yy, does you think a gal can vait As sets 'er 'art on beiug married ? Last niglit she vowed she'd he a hride, And 'ave a spouse for vuss or better : So Bill struck in ; the knot vos tied, And now I vishes you may get her ' '"' Young Mivms turned him from the spot, Bewildered with the dreadful stroke, her Perfidy came like a shot — He was a thunder-struck stockbroker. " A curse on steam and steamers too ! By their delays I have been undone ! " He cried, as, looking very blue. He rode a bachelor to London. The Laureates Tourney. UY THE HON. T B M . ITliis and tlie five following Poems were among those forwarfled to the Home Secretary, by the luisuecessful comiietitors for the Lanreatesliip, on its becoming vacant by tlie death of Soutliey. IIow they came into oiu- possession is a matter between Sir James Graham and ourselves. The result of the contest could never have been doubtful, least of all to the great poet who then succeeded to the bays. His own sonnet on the subject is full of the serene consciousness of superiority, which does not even admit the idea of rivalry, far less of defeat. Bays ! which in former days have graced the brow Of some, who lived and loved, and sang and died ; Leaves that were gathered on the pleasant side Of old Parnassus from Apollo's bough ; With palpitating haml I take ye now, Since worthier minstrel there is none beside, And with a thrill of song half deified, 1 bind them proudly on my locks of snow. There shall they liide, till he who follows next, Of whom I cannot even guess the name. Shall by Court favour, or some vain pretext Of fancied merit, desecrate the same, — And think, perchance, he wears them quite as well As the sole bard who sang of Peter Bell I] FYTTE THE FIRST. " What news, what news, thou pilgrim grey, what news from southern land % How fare the bold Conservatives, how is it Avith Ferrand % 160 THE laureates' TOURNEY. IIow does tlie little Priiiee of Wales — liow looks our lady Queen 1 And tell nie, is the monthly nurse once more at Windsor seenl" "I bring no tidings from the Court, nor from St Stephen's hall ; I've heard the thundering tramp of horse, and the trumpet's battle-call ; And these old eyes have seen a fight, wliich England ne'er hath seen, Since fell King Eichard sobbed his soul through blood on Bosworth Green. ' He's dead, he's dead, the Laureate's dead ! ' 'Twas thus the cry began, And straightway every garret-roof gave up its min- strel man ; From Grub Street, and from Houndsditcli, and from Farringdon Witliin, The poets all towards Whitehall poured on with eldritch iliu. THE LAUREATE^' TOURXEY. 161 Loud yelled they for Sir James the Graham : but sore afraid ^\■as he ; A hardy knight were he that might face such a minstrelsie. * 'Now by St Giles of JSTetherby, my patron Saint, I swear, I'd rather by a thousand crowns Lord Palmerston were here ! — ' What is't ye seek, ye rebel knaves — what make you there beneath 1 ' ' The bays, the ba3's ! we want the bays ! we seek the laureate wreath ! We seek the butt of generous wine that cheers the sons of song ; Choose thoii among us aU, Sir Knight — we may not tarry long ! ' Loud laughed the good Sir James in scorn — ' Eare jest it were, I think, But one poor butt of Xeres, and a thousand rogues to drink ! L 162 THE laureates' tourney. An' if it flowed Avitli wine or beer, 'tis easy to be seen, That dry witbin the liour Avould be the well of Ilip- pocrene. 'Tell me, if on Parnassus' heights there grow a thousand sheaves : Or has Apollo's laurel bush yet borne ten hundred leaves 1 Or if so many leaves Avcre there, how long would they sustain The ravage and the glutton bite of such a locust train 1 ' Xo ! get ye back into your dens, take counsel for the night, And choose me out two champions to meet in deadly fight; To-morrow's dawn shall see the lists marked out in Spitallields, And he who wins shall liave the bays, and he shall die who yields I ' THE laureates' TOURNEY. 163 Down Avent ilie window with a crash, — in silence and in fear Each raggi'd liard looked anxioi;sly upon his neigh- bour near ; Then np and spake young Tennyson- — ' Who's here that f (tars fur death 1 'Twere hotter one of us should die, than England lose the wreath ! ' Let's cast the lot among us now, which two shall fight to-morrow ; — ■ For armour bright we'll club our mite, and horses Ave can borrow ; 'Twere shame that bards of France should sneer, and German Did iters too. If none of British song might dare a deed of derring- do/' ' The lists of Love are mine,' said Moore, ' and not the lists of j\rars ; ' Said Hunt, ' I seek the jars of wine, but shun the combat's jars ! ' 16-i THE laureates' TOURNEY. ' I'm old/ (luoth Samuel Eogers. ■ — ' Faith,' says Cam})ljell, ' so am I ! ' ' And I'm in holy orders, sir ! ' quoth Tom of Ingoldsby. 'Xow out upon ye, craven loons !' cried Moxon, good at need, — ■ 'Bide, if ye will, secure at home, and sleep while others bleed. I second Alfred's motion, boys, — let's try the chance of lot ; And monks shall sing, and bells shall ring, for him that goes to pot. Eight hundred minstrels slunk away — tAvo hundred stayed to draAv, — Xow Heaven protect the daring Avight that pulls the longest straw ! 'Tis done! 'tis done! And Avho hath woni Keep silence one and all, — The first is ^^'illiam Wordsworth hight, the second Xod Fitzball I TUE laureates' TOURNEY. 165 FYTTE THE SECOND. Oh, bright and gay Lath dawned the day on lordly Spitalfields, — How flash tlie rays Avith ardent blaze from polished helms and shields! On cither side the chivalry of England throng the green, And in the middle balcony appears our gracious Queen. With iron fists, to keep the lists, two valiant knights appear, The jNlarquis Hal of AVaterf ord, and stout Sir Aubrey Vere. ' What ho ! there, herald, l)low the trump ! Let's see who comes to claim The butt of golden Xeres, and the Laureate's honoured name ! ' That instant dashed into the lists, all armed from head to heel. On courser broAvn, with vizor down, a warrior sheathed in steel; IGG THE laureates' tourxey. Then said our (^)ucen — ' ^Vas ever seen so stout a knight and tall ] His name — his race ? ' — ' Aii't please your grace, it is the hrave Fitzball. ' Oft in the jVEelodrama line his prowess hath been shown, And Avell throughout the Surrey side his thirst for blood is known. But see, the other champion comes ! ' — Then rang the startled air "With shouts of ' "Wordsworth, Wordsworth, ho ! the bard of IJydal's there.' And lu ! upon a little steed, unmeet for such a course, Appeared the honoured veteran; but Aveak seemed man and horse. Then shook their ears the sapient peers, — ' 1'hat joust will soon be done : ]\Iy Lord of ih'ougham, I'll back Fitzltall, and give you two to one ! ' THE laureates' TOURNEY. 167 ' Done,' qnoth the Brougham, — ' And clone with you ! ' ' Xow, Minstrels, are you ready 1 ' Exclaimed the Lord of Waterford, — ' You'd better both sit steady. Llow, trumpets, blow the note of charge ! and forward to the fight ! ' ' Amen ! ' said good Sir Aubrey Yere ; ' Saint Schism defend the right ! ' As sweeps the blast against the mast when blows the furious squall. So started at the trumpet's sound the terrible Fitzball; His lance he bore liis breast before, — Saint George protect the just ! Or Y'ordsworth's hoary head must roll along the shameful dust ! 'AYho threw that calthrop? Seize tlie knave!' Alas! tlie deed is done ; Down went the steed, and o'er his head flew bright Apollo's son. 168 THE laureates' tourney. ' Undo his helmet ! cut tlie lace ! pour water on his head ! ' ' It ain't no use at all, my lord ; 'cos vy ? the covey's dead ! ' Above him stood the Eydal bard — his face was full of woe. 'Xow there thou licst, stiff and stark, who never feared a foe : A braver knight, or more renowned in tourney and in liall, Xe'er brought the ujiper gallery doAvn than terrible Fitzball ! ' They led our AVordsworth to the Queen — she crowned him witli the bays, And Avislied liini many happy years, and many quarter-days ; Anil if you'd have the story told by abler lips than mine. You've but to call at Eydal Mount, and taste the Laureate's wine ! " The Royal Banquet. BY THE HON. G S S- The Queen slie kept liigli festival in "Windsor's lordly liall, And round her sat tlie gartered knights, and ermined nobles all ; There drank the valiant "Wellington, there fed the wary Peel, And at the hottom of the board Prince Albert carved the veal. 170 ■ THE ROYAL BANQUET. " "What, pantler, ho ! remove the cloth ! Ho ! cellarer, the "wiiio, And bid the royal nurse bring in the hope of Bruns- wick's line ! '"' Then rose with one tumultuous shout the band of British peers, " God bless her sacred Majesty ! Let's sec the little dears ! " Xow by Saint George, our patron saint, 'twas a touching sight to see Tliat iron warrior gently phice the Princess on his knee ; To hear him hush her infant fears, and teach her how to gape "With rosy mouth expectant for the raisin and the grape ! They passed the wine, tlic sparkling wine — they filled tlie goblets up ; Even Brougham, the cynic anchorite, smiled blandly on the cup ; TUK HOYAL BANQUKT. 171 And Lyndhurst, with a noble thirst, that nothing could appease, Proposed the immortal memory of King AVilliam oji his knees. '■' "What Avant ^Ye here, my gracious liege," cried gay Lord Aberdeen, " Save gladsome song and minstrelsy to flow our cups betAveen 1 I ask not now for Goulburn's voice or Knatchbull's warbling lay, But where's the Poet Laureate to grace our board to- day 1 " Loud laughed the Knight of JSTetherby, and scorn- fully he cried, " Or art thou mad with wine, Lord Earl, or art thy- self beside 1 Eight huntlrcd Bedlam bards have claimed the Laureate's vacant crown, And now like frantic Bacchanals run wild through London town ! " 172 THE ROYAL BANQUET. " Xow gloiy to our gracious Queen ! " a voice was heard to cry, And dark ]\racaulay stood before tliem all with frenzied eye ; "Xow glory to our gracious Queen, and all her glorious race, A boon, a boon, my sovran liege ! Give me the Laureate's place ! '•' 'Twas I that sang the might of Eome, the glories of Kavarre ; And who could swell the fame so well of Britain's Isles afar 1 The hero of a hundred fights " Then "\Yel- Luigton up sprung, " Ho, silence in the ranks, I say ! Sit down and hold your tongue ! " I5y heaven, thou shalt not twist my name into a jingling lay, Or mimic in thy puny song the thunders of Assaye ! THE ROYAL BANQUET. 173 'Tis hard that for thy lust of place iu peace we can- not dine. ^N'urse, take her Iloyal Highness, here ! Su' Eohert, pass the wine ! " " Xo Laureate need we at our hoard ! " then spoke the Lord of A'aux ; " Here's many a voice to charm the ear with minstrel song, I know. Even I myself " Then rose the cry — "A song, a song from Brougham ! " He sang, — ■ and straightway found himself alone within the room. The Bard of Eriiis Lament, BY T M HE, ESQ. Oh, weep for llie liours, -vvlicn tlie little blind boy Wove round mo the spells of bis Papbian bower; "Wben I dipped my light wings in the nectar of joj^, And soared in the sunshine, the moth of the hour ! From beauty to beauty I passed, like the wind ; Xow fondled the lily, now toyed Avith the Eose \ And the fair, tbat at morn bad enchanted my mind, "Was forsook for another ere evening's close. I sighed not fur honour, I cared not for fame, While Pleasure sat by me, and Love was my guest ; Thfy twined a fresh Avreatli for ench day as it came, And the bosom of Beauty still pillcjwed my rest : THE BARD OF ERIN's LAMENT. 175 And the liarp of my country — neglected it slept — In hall or by greenwood unheard were its songs ; From Love's Sybarite dreams I aroused nie, and swept Its chords to the tale of her glories and -WTongs. r^ut weep for the hour I — Life's summer is past, And the snow of its winter lies cold on my brow ; And my soul, as it shrinks from each stroke of the blast, Cannot turn to a fire that glows inwardly now. JS'o, its ashes are dead — and, alas ! Love or Song No charm to Life's lengthening shadoAvs can lend, Like a cup of old wine, I'ich, mellow, and strong, And a seat by the fire tete-d-tete with a friend. The Laureate. BY A- Who would not be The Laureate bold, AVitli bis butt of sberry To keep bim nieny, And nothing to do but to pocket his gold % THE LAUREATE. 177 'Tis I -would be the Laureate l^old ! When the days are hot, and the sun is strong, I'd lounge in the gateway all the day long, With her Majesty's footmen in crimson and gold. I'd care not a pin for the waiting-lord ; But I'd lie on my back on the smooth greensward With a straw in my mouth, and an open vest, And the cool wind blowing upon my breast. And I'd vacantly stare at the clear blue sky, And watch the clouds that are listless as I, Lazily, lazily ! And I'd pick the moss and daisies white, And chew their stalks with a nibbling bite ; And I'd let my fancies roam abroad In search of a hint for a birthday ode, Crazily, crazily ! Oh, that would ho the life for me. With plenty to get and nothing to do. But to deck a pet poodle with ribbons of blue, And whistle aU day to the Queen's cockatoo, Trance-somely, trance- somely ! 178 THE LAUREATE. Then tlie chamljcrmaids, tliat clean tlie rooms, "Would come to the Avimlow.s and rest on their lirooms, ^^'ith tlieir saucy caps and their crisped hair, And they'd toss their heads in the fragrant air. And say to each other — " Just look down there, At tlie nice young man, so tidy and small, '\\Tio is paid for writing on nothing at all, Handsomely, handsomely ! " They would pelt me with matches and sweet pastilles, And crumpled-ui) halls of the royal hills. Giggling and laughing, and screaming with fun. As they'd see me start, with a leap and a run. From the hroad of my hack to the jDoints of my toes, AVlien a pellet of paper hit my nose, Teasingly, sneezingly. Then I'd fling them hunches of garden flowers, And hyacinths plucked from the Castle howers ; And I'd challenge them all to come doAvn to me, And I'd kiss them all till tlioy kissed me, Laughingly, laughingly. THE LAUREATE. 179 Oil, ■would not that be a merry life, Apart from care and apart from strife, With 1-hc Laureate's -wine, and the Laureate's pay, And no deductions at quarter-day? Oh, that would 1)0 the post for me ! With plenty to get and nothing to do. But to deck a pet poodle with ribbons of blue, And whistle a tune to the Queen's cockatoo, And scribble of verses remarkably few, And empty at evening a Ijottle or two, Quaffingly, quaffingly ! 'Tis I would be The Laureate bold, With my butt of sherry To keep me merry. And nothing to do but to pocket my gold ! A Midnight Meditation. BY SIR E B- FiLL me once more the foaming pewter up ! Another board of oysters, ladye mine ! To-night Lucullus with himself shall sup. These mute inglorious Miltons are divine ! And as I here in slippered ease recline, Quaffing of I'erkin's Entire my fill, I sigh not for the lymph of Aganij^pe's rill. A nobler inspiration fires my brain, Caught from Old England's fine time-hallowed drink ; I snatch tlie pot again and yet again, And as the foaming fluids shrink and shrink, Fill me once more, I say, up to the brink ! A MIDNIGHT MEDITATION. 181 This makes strong hearts — strong licads attest its charm — Tliis nerves the might that sleeps in Britain's brawny arm ! But these remarks are neither here nor there. Where was 1 1 Oh, I see — old Southey's dead ! They'll want some bard to fill the vacant chair, And drain the annual Initt — and oh, what head More fit with laurel to bo garlanded Than this, which, curled in many a fragrant coil. Breathes of Castalia's streams, and best Macassar oil 1 I know a grace is seated on my brow, Like young Apollo's with his golden beams — There should Apollo's bays be budding now : — And in my flashing eyes the radiance beams, That marks the poet in his waking dreams. When, as his fancies cluster thick and thicker. He feels the trance divine of poesy and liquor. They throng around me now, those things of air That from my fancy took their being's stamp : 182 A MIDNIGHT MEDITATION. There Pelliam sits and twirls liis glossy hair, There Clifford leads his pals upon the tramp ; There pale Zanoni, bending o'er his lamp, Eoams through the starry Avilderness of thought, "Wliere all is everything, and everything is nought. Yes, I am he Avho sang how .Vram won Tlie gentle ear of pensive Aladelinc ! How love and murder hand in hand may run. Cemented by philosophy serene. And kisses bless the spot where gore has been ! "Who breathed the melting sentiment of crime, And for the assassin waked a sympathy sublime ! Yes, I am he, who on tlie novel shed Obscure philosophy's enchanting light ! Until the public, 'wildered as they read. Believed they saw that which was not in sight- Of course 'twas not for mc to set them right ; For in my nether heart convinced I am, Philosophy's as good as any other flam. A MIDXIGIIT MKDITATIOX. 183 Novels three -volumed I shall write no more — Somehow or other now tliey Avill not sell ; And to invent new passions is a Ixire — I find the iNlagazines pay qnite as well. Translating's simple, too, as I can tell, "Who've hawked at Schiller on his lyric throne. And given the astonished hard a meaning all my own. Moore, Campbell, Wordsworth, their best days are grassed : Battered and broken are their early lyres, Rogers, a pleasant niemor}^ of the past, "Warmed his yonng hands at Smithfield's martyr fires, And, worth a plum, nor bays nor Initt desires. But these are things would suit me to the letter. For though this Stout is good, old Sherry's greatly better. A fico for yowY small poetic ravers, Your Hunts, your Tennysons, your Milnes, and these ! Shall they compete with him Avho wrote ' ]\Ialtravers,' 184 A MIDXIGHT MEDITATION. Prologue to ' Alice or the ]\lysteries ' ? No ! Even now nn^ glance proiDhetic sees ^Ij own bigli Lrow girt with the baj's about. What ho ! within there, ho ! another pint of Stout ! Sl-ou^/ More Stout!! Montgoinery. A POEM. Like one "who, waking from a troublous dream, Pursues with force his meditative tlieme ; Cahn as the ocean in its halcyon still, Calm as the sunlight sleeping on the hill ; Calm as at Ephesus great Paul Avas seen To rend his rolies in agonies serene ; Calm as the love that radiant Luther bore To all that lived behind him and before ; Calm as meek Calvin, when, with holy smile, He sang the mass around Servetus' pile, — So once again I snatch this harp of mine, To breathe rich incense from a mystic shrine. ]N"ot now to whisper to the ambient air The sounds of Satan's Universal Prayer ; 186 MONTGOMERY. IN'ot now to sing, in sweet domestic strife That woman reigns tlie Angel of our life ; But to })ro(;laim the wish, with pious art, Which thrills through Britain's universal heart, — That on this brow, Avith native honours graced, The Laureate's chaplet should at length be placed ! Fear not, ye maids, who love to hear me speak ; Let no desponding tears bedim your cheek ! !N"o gust of envy, no malicious scorn, Hath this poor heart of mine Avith frenzy torn. There are Avho move so far above the great, Their very look disarms the glance of hate ; Their tlioughts, more rich than emerald or gold, Enwrap tlicm like tlio prophet's mantlet's fold. Fear not for me, nor think that this our age, B)liiid though it be, hath yet no Archimage. I, who have bathed, in bright Castalia's tide ]5y classic Isis and more classic Clyde; T, who have handled, in my lofty strain. All tilings divine, and many things profane; T, who have trod where seraphs fear to tread ; I, who on mount no, " lioney-dcAV " have fed; MONTGOMERY. 187 I, "wlio undaunted Ijroke llie mystic seal, And left no page for pro}iliets to reveal ; I, who in shade portentous Dante threw ; I, who have done Avhat IMilton dared not do, — I fear no rival for the vacant throne ; ISTo mortal thunder shall eclipse my own ! Let dark ]\lacaulay chant his Roman lays, Let Monckton jNlilncs go maunder for the bays, Let Simmons call on great !N'apoleon's shade, Let Lytton Bulwer seek his Aram's aid. Let Wordsworth ask for help from Peter Bell, Let Campbell carol Copenhagen's knell. Let Delta warble through his Delphic groves. Let Elliott shout for pork and penny loaves, — I care not, I ! resolved to stand or fall ; One down, another on, I'll smash them all ! Back, ye profane ! this hand alone hath power To pluck the laurel from its sacred bower ; This brow alone is privileged to wear The ancient wreath o'er hyacinthine hair ; These lips alone may quaff the sparkling wine, 188 MONTGOMERY. And make its mortal juice once more divine. Bade, ye profane ! And thou, fair Queen, rejoice : A nation's praise shall consecrate thy choice. Thus, then, I kneel where Spenser knelt before, On the same spot, perchance, of Windsor's floor; And take, while awe-struck millions round me stand, The hallowed wreath from great Victoria's hand. The Death of Space. [Why has Satan's own Laureate never given to the world his marvellous threnody on the " Death of Space " ? Who knows where the bays might have fallen, had he forwarded that mystic manuscript to the Home Office ? If unwonted modesty withholds it from the public eye, the public will pardon the boldness that tears from blushing obscurity the followuig fragments of this unique poem.] Eternity shall raise her funeral-pile In the vast dungeon of the extinguished sky, And, clothed in dim Larharic splendour, smile, And murmur shouts of elegiac joy. "While those that dwell beyond the realms of space, And those that people all that dreary void. When old Time's endless heir hath run his race, Shall live for aye, enjoying and enjoyed. And 'mid the agony of unsullied bliss, Her Demogorgon's doom shall Sin bewail, The undying serpent at the spheres shall hiss, And lash the empyrean Avith his tail. 190 THE DEATH OF SPACE. And Hell, inflated with supernal wrath, Shall open wide her thunder-bolted jaws, And shout into the dull cold ear of Death, That he must pay his debt to Nature's laws. And when the King of Terrors breathes his last, Infinity shall creep into her shell. Cause and effect shall from their thrones be cast. And end their strife with suicidal yell : "\Miile from their ashes, burnt Avith pomp of kings, '^lid incense floating to the evanished skies, Xonenity, on circumambient wings, An everlasting Phoenix shall arise. Little John and the Red Friar. A LAY OF SHEEWOOD. FYTTE THE FIRST. The deer may leap within the glade ; The fawns may follow free — For Robin is dead, and his bones are laid Beneath the greenwood tree. 192 LITTLE JOIIX AND THE RED FRIAR. And broken are his merry, merry men, That goodly companie : There's some have ta'en the northern road "With Jem of Xetherbee. The best and bravest of the band With Derby K'ed are gone ; But Earlie Grey and Charlie Wood, They stayed -witli Little John, 'Now Little John was an outlaw proud, A prouder ye never saw ; Througli Xottingham and Leicester shires He thought his word Avas law, And he strutted througli the greenwood wide, Like a pestilent jackdaw. He swore that none, but with leave of him, Should set foot on the turf so free : And he thouglit to spread Ids cutter's rule. All over the south countrie. " There's never a knave in tlie land," he said, " But shall pay his toll to me 1 " LITTLE JOHN AXD THE RED I'laAI!. 193 And Charlie Wood was a tax man good As ever stepped the ground, lie levied mail, like a sturdy thief, From all the yeomen round. "Nay, stand ! " quoth ho, '• thou shalt pay to me Seven pence from every pound ! " 'Now "svord has come to little John, As he lay upon the grass, That a Friar red Avas in merry Sherwood Without his leave to pass. " Come hither, come hither, my little foot-page ! Ben Hawes, come tell to me, What manner of man is this burly frere Who walks the wood so free ? " " ]\ry master good ! " the little page said, " His name I wot not well, r>ut he wears on his head a hat so red, AVith a monstrous scallop-shell. N 194 LITTLE JOHN AND THE HED FRIAR, 9 " He says lie is Prior of Copmanslmrst, And Bishop of London town, And lie conies ■\vitli a rope from our father the Pope, To put the outlaws down. " I saw liini ride but yester-tide, "Willi his jolly chaplains three ; And he swears that he has an open pass From Jeni of Xetherbee ! " Little John has ta'en an arrow so broad, And broken it o'er his knee ; " Xow may I never strike doe again. But this wrong avenged shall be ! " And has he dared, this greasy frere, To trespass in my bound, Xor asked fur leave from Little John To range with hawk and hound? " And has he dared to take a pass From Jem of Ketherbee, Forgetting that the Sherwood shaws Pertain of right to me 1 LITTLE JOHX AND THE RED FRIAR. 195 " 0 were lie but a simple man, And not a slip-shod frere ! I'd hang him up Ly his own waist-rope Above yon tangled brere. "0 did he come alone from Jem, And not from our father the Pope, I'd bring him into Copmanshurst, With the noose of a hempen rope ! " But since lie has come from our father the Pope, And sailed across the sea, And since he has power to bind and lose, His life is safe for me ; But a heavy penance he shall do Beneath the greenwood tree ! " " 0 tarry yet ! " quoth Charlie Wood, " 0 tarry, master mine ! It's ill to shear a yearling hog, C'r twist the Avool of swine ! 19G LITTLE JOHN' AND THE RED FRIAR, " It's ill to make a bonny silk purse From the ear of a bristly boar ; It's ill to provoke a shaveling's curse, When the way lies him before. " I've walked the forest for twenty years, In wet Aveather and dry, And never stopped a good fellowe, Who liad no coin to buy. '• "WTiat boots it to search a beggarman's bags, When no silver groat he has 1 So, master mine, I rede you well, E'en let the friar pass ! " " ITow cease thy prate," quoth Little John, " Thou japest but in vain ; An he have not a groal within his pouch, We may find a silver chain. " But were he as bare as a new-flayed buck, As truly he may be. He shall not tread the Sherwood shaws Without the leave of me ! " LITTLE JOHN' AND THE RED FRLVR. 197 Little Jolm has taken his arroAVs and bow, His sword and buckler strong, And lifted up his quarter-staff, "Was full three cloth yards long. And he has left liis merry men At the trysting-tree behind, And gone into the gay greenwood. This burly frere to find. O'er holt and hill, througli brake and brere, He took his way alone — 'Now, Lordlings, list and you shall hear This geste of Little John. FYTTE THE SECOND. 'Tis merry, 'tis merry in gay greenwood, "When the little birds are singin" "When the buck is belling in the fern, And the hare from the thicket springing ! 198 LITTLE JOHN AND THE RED FRIAR. 'Tis merry to liear the Avaters clear, As they splash in the pebbly fall ; And the ouzel whistlmg to his mate^ As he lights on the stones so small. But small pleasaunce took Little John In all he heard and saw ; Till he reached the cave of a hermit old AVho Avonncd within the shaA^. " Ora pro nohU ! " quoth Little John— His Latin Avas someAvhat rude — " IS'oAV, holy father, hast thou seen A frere Avithiu the Avood ? " By his scarlet hose, and his ruddy nose, I guess you may know liim avuII ; And he Avears on his head a hat so red, And a monstrous scallop-shell." " I have served Saint Pancras," the hermit said, " In this cell for tliirty year. Yet never saw I, in the forest bounds. The face of such a frere ! LITTLE JOIIX AND THE RED FUIAU. 199 "An' if yc find liim, master mine, E'en take an old man's advice, An' raddle him well, till he roar again, Lest ye fail to meet him twice ! ". " Trust me for that ! " quoth Little John — " Trust me for that ! " quoth he, with a laugh ; " There never was man of woman horn, That asked twice for the taste of- my quarter-staff!" Then Little John, he strutted on. Till he came to an (jpen hound, And he was aware of a Eed Friar, "Was sitting upon the ground. His shoulders they were broad and strong. And large Avas he of limb ; Few yeomen in the north countrie Would care to mell with him. He heard the rustling of the boughs, As Little John drew near ; But never a single word he spoke, Of welcome or of cheer : 200 LITTLE JOHN' -VXD THE RED FRIAR. Less stir lie madu than a pedlar would For a small "nat in his car ! I like not his looks ! thought Little John, Xor his stafi' of the oaken tree. Xow may our Lady be my help, Else beaten I "vvell may be ! " "What dost thou here, thou strong Friar^ In Sherwood's merry round, Without the leave of Little John, To range with hawk and hound 1 " " Small thought have I," quoth the Red Friar, " Of any leave, I trow ; That Little John is an outlawed thief, And so, I ween, art thou ! " Know, I am l^rior of Copmanshurst, And T>ishop of London town, And I bring a rope from our father the Pope, To put the outlaws down." LITTLK JOIIX AXD THE RED FUI.VR. 201 Then out spoke Little Jolm in "wratli, " I tell tliee, Inirly frere, The Pope may do as he likes at home. Dut he sends no Bishops here ! " Up, and away, Eed Friar ! " he said, " Up, and away, right speedilie ; An it Avere not for that cowl of thine. Avenged on thy body I would Le ! " " ^N'ay, heed not that," said the Eed Friar, " And let my cowl no hindrance he ; I Avarrant that I can give as good As ever I think to take from thee ! " Little John lie raised his fjuarter-staff, And so did the burly priest, And they fought beneath the greemvood tree A stricken hour at least. But Little John Avas weak of fence, And his strength began to fail ; "Whilst the Friar's bloAvs came thundering doAvu, Like the strokes of a threshing -flaiL 202 LITTLE JOIIX AXD THE RED FRIAR. *' Xow hold thy hand, thou stalwart Friar, Now rest beneath the thorn, Until I gather breath enow, For a blast at my bugle-horn ! " " I'll hold my hand," the Friar said, " Since that is your propinc, But, an you sound your bugle-horn, I'll even blow on mine ! " Little John he wound a blast so shrill, That it rang o'er rock and linn, And Charlie "Wood, and his merry men all, Came lightly bounding in. The Friar he wound a blast so strong That it shook both bush and tree. And to his side came witless Will, And Jem of lietherbee ; "With all the worst of Robin's band. And many a Rapparee ! LITTLE JOHN AND THE RED FRIAR. 203 Little John he wist not what to do, When he saw the others come ; So he twisted liis quarter-staff between His fingers and his thumb. " There's some mistake, good Friar ! " he said, " Tliere's some mistake 'tAvixt thee and me ; I know thou art Prior of Copmanshurst, But not beneath the greenwood tree. '' And if you Avill take some other name, You shall liave ample leave to bide ; "With pasture also for your Bulls, And power to range the forest wide." " There's no mistake ! " the Friar said ; " I'll call myself just what I please. My doctrine is that chalk is chalk, And cheese is nothing else than cheese." " So be it, then ! " quoth Little John ; " But surely you will not object, If I and all my nierry men Should treat you with reserved respect ? 204 LITTLE JullN AXD THE RED FRIAR. arXa " "We can't call you Prior of Copmanshurst, Xor Disliop of I.ondon town, Xor on the grass, as you chance to pass, Can -we very well kneel down. LITTLE JOHN AND THE RED FRIAR. 205 " But you'll send the Pope my coniplinieuts, And say, as a further hint, That, ^vit]liu the Sherwood bounds, you saw Little John, who is the son-in-law Of his friend, old Mat-o'-the-IMint ! " So ends this geste of Little John — God save our noble Queen ! But, Lordlings, say — Is Sherwood novv- What Sherwood once hath been 1 ^\^^%f- '^^ The Rhyme of Sir Laiincclot Bogle. A LEGEND OF GLASGOW. BY MRS E E • B . There's a pleasant place of rest, near a City of the West, "Where its bravest and its best find their grave. THE RHYME OF SIR LAUNCELOT BOGLE. 207 Below the willows weep, and their hoary branches steep lu the waters still and deep, Not a wave ! And the old Cathedral Wall, so scathed and grey and tall, Like a priest surveying all, stands beyond ; And the ringing of its bell, when the ringers ring it Avell, Makes a kind of tidal swell On the pond ! And there it was I lay, on a beauteous summer's day, With the odour of the hay floating by ; And I heard the blackbirds sing, and the bells de- murely ring. Chime by chime, ting by ting, Droppingly. Then my thoughts went wandering back, on a very beaten track. To the confine deep and black of the tomb ; 208 Tiir: rhyme of sir lauxcelot bogle. AikI I woudcrcd who he was, that is laid beneath the grass, AVhere tlie dandelion lias Such a bloom. Then I straightway did espy, Avith my slantly-sloping eye, A carved stone hard by, somewhat worn ; And I read in letters cold — fi^rc . IgcS . 3LaunccIot . uc . boltif, ©CC . uc . race . off . Bogflc . olti, (Glnsrjciu . borne. %lc . inals . nnc . faalgaunt . luigcljtc . inai'st . terrible . in . fucljtc. Here the letters failed outright, but I knew That a stout crusading lord, who had crossed the Jordan's ford, Lay there beneath the sward, "\\"et with dew. Time and tiile they passed awaj', on that i)leasant summer's day, And around me, as I lay, all grew old : THE KHVMB OF SIK LAUNCELOT BOGLE. 209 Sank the chiumeys from the town, and the clouds of vapour brown jSTo longer, like a crown, O'er it rolled. Sank the great Saint Eollox stalk, like a pile of dingy chalk ; Disappeared the cypress walk, and the flowers ; And a donjon-keep arose, that might baffle any foes, "With its men-at-arms in rows, On the towers. And the flag that flaunted there showed the grim and grizzly bear, "SMiich the Bogles always Avcar for their crest. And I heard the Avarder call, as he stood upon the wall, "Wake ye up ! my comrades all, From your rest ! " For, by the blessed rood, there's a glimpse of armour good In the deep Cowcaddens wood, o'er the stream ; o 210 TUE RUYME OF SIR LAUXCELOT BOGLE. And I hear the stifled hum of a multitude that come, Though they have not beat the drum, It -would seem ! " Go tell it to my Lord, lest he Avish to man the ford "With partisan and sword, just beneath ; Ho, Gilkison and I^ares ! Ho, Provan of Cowlairs ! We'll back the bonny bears To the death ! " To the tower above the moat, like one who heedeth not, Came the bold Sir Launcelot, half undressed ; On the outer rim he stood, and peered into the wood, "With his arms across him glued On his breast. And he muttered, " Foe accurst ! hast thou dared to seek me first 1 George of Gorbals, do thy worst — for I swear, O'er thy gory corpse to ride, ere thy sister and my bride. From my undissevered side Thou slialt tear ! THE RHYME OF SIR LAUNCELOT BOGLE. 211 " Ho, Lcrakl mine, Browulee ! ride forth, I pray, and see, Wlio, what, and whence is he, foe or friend ! Sir Roderick Dalgleish, and my foster-brother Xeish, With his bloodhounds in the leash. Shall attend." Forth went the herald stout, o'er the drawbridge and without, Then a wild and savage shout rose amain, Six arrows sped their force, and, a pale and bleeding corse. He sank from off his horse On the i^lain ! Back drew tlie bold Dalgleish, back started stalwart Xeish, With his bloodhounds in the leash, from Brownlee. " ISTow shame be to the sword that made thee knight and lord, Thou caitiff thrice abhorred. Shame on thee ! 212 THE RHYME OF SIR LAUXCELOT BOGLE. " Ho, bowmen, beml your bows ! Discharge upon the foes Fortliwith no end of those heavy bolts. Three angels to the brave who finds the foe a grave, And a gallows for the slave Who revolts ! " Ten days the combat lasted ; but the bold defenders fasted, AVliile the foemen, better pastied, fed their host ; You miglit hear the savage cheers of the hungry Gorbaliers, As at night they dressed the steers For the roast. And Sir Launcelot grew thin, and Provan's double chin Showed sundry folds of skin down beneath ; In silence and in grief found Gilkison relief, Xor did Xeish the spell-word, beef, Dare to breathe. THE UHYiME OF SIR LAUNCELOT BOGLE. 213 To the ramparts Edith came, that fan- and youthful dame, With the rosy evening flame on her face. She siglied, and looked around on the soldiers on the ground, "Who but little penance found, Saying grace ! And she said unto her lord, as he leaned upon his sword, " One short and little word may I speak ? I cannot bear to view those eyes so ghastly blue, Or mark the sallow hue Of thy cheek ! " I know the rage and wrath that my furious brother hath Is less against us both than at me. Then, dearest, let me go, to find among the foe An arrow from the bow, Like Brownlee ! " 21-4 THE RIIYJIE OF SIR LAUNCELOT BOGLE. " I ■would soil my father's name, I Avonld lose my treasured fame, Ladye mine, should such a shame on me light : AVhile I -wear a belted brand, together still we stand, Heart to heart, hand in hand ! " Said tlie knight. "All our chances are not lost, as your brother and his host Shall discover to their cost rather hard ! IIo, Provan ! take this key — hoist up tlic ]\Ialvoisie, And heap it, d'ye see, In the yard. " Of usquebaugh and rum, y(ju will find, I reckon, some, Besides the beer and mum, extra stout ; Go straightway to your tasks, and roll mo all the casks. As also range the flasks, Just without. THE RHYME OF SIR LAUNCELOT BOGLE. 215 " If I know tlie Gorbaliers, they are sure to dip their ears In the very inmost tiers of the drink. Let tlieni win the outer court, and hold it for their sport, Since their time is rather short, I should think !" With a loud triumphant yell, as the heavy draw- bridge fell, Rushed the Gorbaliers peU-mell, Avild as Druids ; j\Iad Avith thirst for human gore, how they threatened and they swore. Till they stumbled on thi floor, O'er the fluids, DoAvn their Aveapons then they threw, and each savaG-e soldier drcAv From his belt an iron screw, in his fist ; George of Gorbals found it vain tlieir excitement to restrain. And indeed was rather fain To assist. 216 THE RHYME OF SIH LAUXCELOT BOGLE. "With a beaker in his hand, in the midst he took his stand, And silence did command, all below — " Ho ! Launcelot the bold, ere thy lips are icy cold. In the centre of thy hold, Pledge me now ! " Art surly, brother mine 1 In this cup of rosy wine, I drink to the decline of thy race ! Thy jiroud career is done, thy sand is nearly run, !N'ever more shall setting sun GHd thy face ! "The pilgrim, in amaze, "shall sec a goodly blaze, Ere tlie pallid morning rays flicker up ; And perchance he may espy certain corjises swinging liigh ! "What, brother ! art thou dry 1 l'"ill ]iiy cup ! " .l)uml) as death stood Launcelot, as though he heard him not. But his bosom Provan smote, and he swore : THE RHYME OF SIR LAUNCELOT BOGLE. 217 And Sir Roderick Dalgleish remarked aside to Xeish, " !Never sure did thirsty fish Swallow more ! " Thirty casks are nearly done, yet the revel's scarce begun ; It were knightly sport and fun to strike in ! " " Kay, tarry till they come," quoth Xeish, " unto the rum — They are working at the mum, And the gin ! " Then straight there did appear to each gallant Gorbalier Twenty castles dancing near, all around ; The solid earth did shake, and the stones beneath them quake, And sinuous as a snake ]\IoYed the ground. "Why and wherefore they had come, seemed intricate to some, But all asireed the rum was divine. 218 THE RHYME OF SIR LAUXCELOT BOGLE. And they looked -witli bitter scorn on their leader highly born, Who preferred to fill his horn Up Avith Avine ! Then said Launcelot the tall, " Bring the chargers from their stall ; Lead them straight unto the hall, down below : Draw your weapons from your side, iling the gates asunder wide, And together we shall ride On the foe ! " Then Provan knew full well, as he leaped into his selle, That few would 'scape to tell how they fared ; And Gilkison and iS^ares, both mounted on their mares, Looked terrible as bears. All prepared. ■\Vith his bloodhounds in the leash, stood the iron- sinewed Keish, And the falchion of Dalgleish glittered bright — THE RHYME OF SIR LAUNCELOT BOGLE. 219 "Xow, -svake the trumpet's blast; and, comrades, follow fast ; Smite tliem down unto the last ! " Cried the knight. In the cumbered yard without, there was shriek, and yell, and shout, As the warriors Avheeled about, all in mail. On the miserable kerne fell the death-strokes stiff and stern, As the deer treads doAvn the fern, In the vale ! Saint Mungo be my guide ! It was goodly in that tide To see the Bogle ride in his haste ; He accompanied each blow with a cry of " Ha ! " or " Ho ! " And always cleft the foe To the waist, *' George of Gorbals — craven lord ! thou didst threat me with the cord ; Come forth and brave my sword, if you dare ! ' 220 THE RHYME OF SIR LAUNCELOT BOGLE. I)ut lie met "svith no reply, and never could descry The glitter of his eye Anywhere. Ere the da-\\-n of morning shone, all the Gorbaliers Averc down, Like a field of barley mown in the ear : It had done a soldier good to see how Provan stood, "With Xeish all bathed in blood. Panting near. " ^ow bend ye to your tasks — go carry down those casks, And place the empty flasks on the floor ; George of Gorbals scarce Avill come, with trumpet and with drum, To taste our beer and rum Any more ! " So they bent them to their tasks, and they carried down the casks, And replaced the empty flasks on the floor ; THE RHYME OP SIR LAUNCELOT BOGLE. 221 But pallid for a week was the cellar-master's cheek, For lie swore he heard a shriek Through the door. When the merry Christmas came, and the Yule-log lent its flame To the face of squire and dame in the hall, The cellarer wont down to tap October hrown, Which was rather of renown 'Mongst them all. He placed the spigot low, and gave the cask a Llow, But his liquor would not flow through the pin. " Sure, 'tis sweet as honeysuckles ! " so he rapped it Avith his knuckles, But a sound, as if of buckles, Clashed within. " Bring a hatchet, varlets, liere ! " and they cleft the cask of beer : What a spectacle of foar met their sight ! 222 THE RHYME OF SIR LAUXCELOT BOGLE. There George of Gorbals lay, skull aud bones all blanched and grey, In the arms he bore the day Of the fight ! I have sung this ancient tale, not, I trust, without avail, Though the moral ye may fail to perceive ; Sir Launcelot is dust, and his gallant sword is rust, ^Vnd now, I think, I must Take my leave ! The Lay of the Lover s Friend. [A.1R — " Tlic days we luent a.-gypsying."'\ I WOULD all womankind were dead, Or banislied o'er the sea ; For they have been a hitter plague These last six Aveeks to me : It is not that I'm touched myself, For that I do not fear ; 224 TUB LAY OF THE LOVER's FRIEND. Ko female face lias shown me grace For many a Ijj^gone year. But 'tis tlie most infernal bore, Of all the bores I knoAv, To have a friend who's lost his heart A short time ago. "Whene'er we steam it to Elackwall, Or down to Greenwich run, To quaff the pleasant cider-cup, And feed on fish and fun ; Or climb the slopes of Eichmond Hill, To catch a breath of air : Then, for my sins, he straight begins To rave about his fair. Oh, 'tis the most tremendous bore, Of all the bores I know, To liuve a friend who's lost his heart A short time ago. In vain you pour into his car Your own confiding grief; THE LAY UK THE LOVEIi's FRIEND. 225 In vain you claim his sympathy, In vain you ask relief ; In vain you try to rouse him by Joke, repartee, or quiz ; His sole reply's a liurning sigh, And " What a mind it is ! " 0 Lord ! it is the greatest bore, Of all the bores I know. To have a friend who's lost his heart A short time ago. I've heard her thoroughly described A hundred times, I'm sure ; And all the while I've tried to smile, And patiently endure; He waxes strong upon his pangs. And potters o'er his grog ; And still I say, in a playful way — " Why, you're a lucky dog ! " But oh ! it is the heaviest bore, Of all the bores I know, To have a friend who's lost his heart A short time ago. p ■ 226 THE LAY OF THE LOVER's FRIEND. I really wish he'il do like me, "When I was young and strong ; I formed a passion every week, But never kept it long. Ikit he has not the sportive mood That always rescued me, And so I Avould all Avomen could I'.e banished o'er the sea. For 'tis the most egregious bore, Of all the bores I know. To have a friend who's lost his heart A short time ago. Frances c a Da Rimini. TO BON GAULTIER. [Aroi'ment. — An impassioned pupil of Leigh Hunt, having met Bon Gaultier at a Fancy Ball, declares the destructive consequences thus.] Didst tliou not praise me, Gaultier, at the ball, Eipe lips, trim boddice, and a waist so small, "With clipsome lightness, dwindling ever less, Beneath the robe of pea-y greeniness 1 Dost thou remember, when, with stately prance, Our heads went crosswise in the country-dance; How soft, warm fingers, tipped like buds of balm. Trembled within the squeezing of thy palm ; 228 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. And how a cheek grew flushed and peachy- Avise At the frank lifting of tliy cordial eyes 1 Ah, me ! that night there was one gentle thing, AVlio, like a dove, with its scarce feathered wing, Fluttered at the approach of thy quaint swaggering ! There's wont to be, at conscious times like these, An aff'ectation of a bright-eyed ease, — A crispy cheekiness, if so I dare Describe the swaling of a jaunty air ; And thus, when swirling from the waltz's wheel. You craved my hand to grace the next quadrille, That smiling voice, although it made me start. Boiled in the meek o'erlifting of my heart ; And, picking at my flowers, I said, with free And usual tone, " 0 yes, sir, certainly ! " Like one that swoons, 'twixt sweet amaze and fear, I heard the music burning in my ear, Ami fell I cared not, so tliou wert with me, If Gurtli or "Wamba were our vis-a-vis. So, when a tall Knight Templar ringing came. And took his place amongst us with liis dame, I neither turned away, nor bashful shrunk From the stern survey of the soldier-monk, PRANCESCA DA RIMINI. 229 Thougli rather more than three full quarters drunk ; But, threading tln'ough the figure, first in rule, I paused to see thee plunge into La Poule. Ah, what a sight was that ! Xot j)rurient ]\Iars, Pointing his toe through ten celestial bars — !N"ot young Apollo, beamily arrayed In tripsonie guise for Juno's masquerade — 'Not smartest Hermes, with his pinion girth, Jerking with freaks and snatches down to earth, Looked half so hold, so beautiful, and strong, As thou, when pranking through the glittering throng ! How the calmed ladies looked with eyes of love On thy trim velvet doublet laced above ; The hem of gold, that, like a wavy river. Mowed down into thy back with glancing shiver ! So bare was thy fine throat, and curls of black, So lightsomely dropped in thy lordly back, So crisply swaled the feather in thy bonnet, So glanced thy thigh, and spanning palm upon it. That my weak soul took instant flight to thee, Lost in the fondest gush of that sweet Avitchery ! But when the dance was o'er, and arm in arm (The full heart beating 'gainst the elbow warm) 230 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. "We passed into the great refresliment-liall, "Where the heaped cheese-cakes and tlie comfits small Lay, like a hive of sunbeams, brought to burn Around the margin of the negus urn ; "When my poor quivering hand you fingered twice, And, with inquiring accents, whispered " Ice, "Water, or cream 1 " I could no more dissemble, But dropped upon the couch all in a tremble. A swimming faintness misted o'er my brain. The corks seemed starting from the brisk champagne. The custards fell untouched upon the floor. Thine eyes met mine. Tliat night we danced no more ! The Cadis Daug-Jitcr. A LEGEND OF THE BOSPIIORUS. [from any of the annuals. ] How beauteous is the star of niglit Within tlic eastern skies, Like the twinkHng gkance of the Toorkman's knee, Or tlie antelope's azure eyes ! 232 THE cadi's daughter. A lamp of love in the heaven above, That star is fondly streaming ; And the gay kiosk and the shadowy mosque In the Golden Horn are gleaming. Young Leila sits in her jasmine bower, And she hears the bulbul sing. As it thrills its throat to the first full note, That anthems the flowery sjning. She gazes still, as a maiden Avill, On that beauteous eastern star : You might see the throT) of her bosom's sob Beneath the white cymar ! She thinks of him who is far away, — Her own brave Galiongee, — "Where the billows foam and the breezes roam, On the wild Carpatliian soa. She thinks of the oath that bound them both Beside the stormy water; And the words of love, that in Athens' grove He spake to the Cadi's daughter. THE cadi's daughter. 233 " My Selini ! " thus the maiden said, " Though severed tlius we be By the raguig deep and the mountain steep, My soul still yearns to thee. Thy form so dear is mirrored here In my heart's pellucid well, As tlie rose looks up to Phingari's orb, Or the ]noth to the gay gazelle. " I think of the time when the Kaftan's crime Our love's young joys o'ertook, And thy name still floats in the plaintive notes Of my silver-toned chibouf|ue. Thy hand is red with the blood it has shed, Thy soul it is heavy laden ; Yet come, my Giaour, to thy Leila's boAver ; Oh, come to thy Turkish maiden ! " A light step trod on the dewy sod, And a voice was in her ear. And an arm embraced young Leila's waist — " Beloved ! I am here ! " 234 THE CADl"s DAUGHTER. Like tlie pliantoin form that rules the storm, AiDpeared tlie pirate lover, And his fiery eye was lilce Zatanai, As he fondly bent above her. '' Speak, Leila, speak ; for my light caique Eides proudly in yonder bay ; I have come from my rest to her I love best. To carry thee, love, away. The breast of thy lover shall shield thee, and cover My own jemschecd from harm ; Think'st thou I fear the dark vizier, Or the mufti's vengeful arm 1 " Then droop not, love, nor turn away Fiom Ihis ruih; hand of mine ! " And L(!iLi looked in her lover's eyes, And murmured — "1 am thine!" J kit a gloomy man Avitli a yataghan Stole througli the acacia-l)lossoms. And the thrust he made with his gleaming blade Hath pierced through both their bosoms. THE CADIS DAUGHTER. 235 " There ! there ! tliou cursed caitiff Giaoiu- ! There, tliere, thou false one, lie ! " Remorseless Hassan stands ahove, And he smiles to see them die. They sleep beneath the fresh green turf, The lover and the lad)' — And the maidens wail to hear the tale Of the daughter of the Cadi ! c» The Dirge of the Drinker. Brothers, spare awliile your litj^uor, lay your fiual tumbler down ; He Las dropped — that star of honour — on the field of his renown ! Eaise the Avail, but raise it softlj-, lowly bending on your knees, If you find it more convenient, you may hiccuj) if you please. Sons of Pantagruel, gently let your hip-hurrahing sink, Be your manly accents clouded, half Avith sorroAV, half with drink ! Lightly to the sofa pillow lift his head from off the floor; See, hoAv calm he sleeps, unconscious as the deadest nail in door ! Widely o'er the earth I've Avandcred ; Avhere the drink most freely flowed, I liaA'c ever reeled the foremost, foremost to the beaker strode. THE DIUGE OF THE DRINKER. 237 Deep in shady Cider Cellars I have dreamed o'er heavy wet, By the fountains of Damascus I have quaffed the rich sherbet, Eegal IMontepulciano drained beneath its native roclc, On Johannis' sunny mountain frequent hiccuped o'er my hock ; I have bathed in butts of Xeres deeper than did e'er Monsoon, Sangaree'd Avilh bearded Tartars in the i\rountains of the Moon ; In beer-swilling Copenhagen I have drunk your Danesman blind, I have kept my feet in Jena, when each bursch to earth declined ; Glass for glass, in fierce Jamaica, I have shared the planter's rum. Drunk with Highland dhuine-wassails, till each gib- bering Gael grew dumb ; But a stouter, bolder drinker — one that loved his liquor more — Never yet did I encounter than our friend upon the floor ! 238 THE DIRGE OF THE DRINKER. Yet tlie Lest of us are mortal, we to -weakness all are heir, He has fallen who rarely staggered — let the rest of us beware ! We shall leave him as we found him, — lying where his manhood fell, 'iSIong the trophies of the revel, for he took his tipple well. Better 'twere we loosed his neckcloth, laid his throat and bosom bare, Pulled his Hobies oil', ami turned his toes to taste the breezy air. Throw the sofa cover o'er him, dim the flaring of the gas, Calmly, cahnly let him slumber, and, as by the bar we pass, We shall bid that thoughtful waiter place beside him, near and handy, Large supplies of soda-water, tumblers bottomed well with brandy, 80, when waking, he shall drain them, with that deathless thirst of his, — Clinging to the hand that smote him, like a good 'un as he is ! TJie Death of Diroal. BY \V n A TH, ESQ. ["Metliiiiks I see liim already in the cart, sweeter and more lovely than the nosegay in his hand ! I hear tlie crowd extolling his resolution and intrepidity ! What volleys of sighs are sent from the windows of Holborn, that so comely a youth should lie brought to disgrace ! I see him at the tree ! the whole circle are in tears ! even butchers weep ! " — Beggars' OrERA.] A LIVING sea of eager liuinan faces, A thousand Losonis throblting all as one, Walls, windows, balconies, all sorts of places, Holding their crowds of gazers to the sun : Through the hushed groups low-buzzing murmurs run ; And on the air, with slow reluctant sw(!ll, Comes the dull funeral-boom of old Sepulchre's bell. Oh, joy in London now ! in festal measnro Be spent the evening of this festive day ! 240 THE DEATH OF DUVAL. For tliee is opening now a high-strung pleasure ; !N"ow, even now, in yonder press-yard they Strike from his limbs the fetters loose away ! A little while, and he, the brave Duval, AVill issue forth, serene, to glad and greet you all. " Why comes he not ] Say, wherefore doth he tarry?" Starts the inquiry loud from every tongue. " Surely," they cry, " that tedious Ordinary Ilis tedious psalms must long ere this have sung, — Tedious to him that's waiting to be hung ! " But hark ! old Xewgate's doors fly wide apart. " lie comes, he comes ! " A thrill shoots through each gazer's heart. Joined in the stunning cry ten thousand voices, All Smithfield answered to the loud acclaim. " He comes, he comes ! " and every breast rejoices, As down Snow Hill thcshout tumultuous came, Bearing to Ilolborn's crowd the welcome fame. " He comes, he comes ! " and each holds back his breath — Some ribs are broke, and some few scores are crushed to death. THE DEATH OF DUVAL. 241 Willi step majestic to the cart advances The dauntless Claude, and springs into his seat. He feels that on him now are fixed the glances Of many a Eriton bold and maiden sweet, Wliose hearts responsive to his glories beat. In him the honour of " The Road " is centred, And all the hero's fire into his bosom entered. His was the transport — his the exultation Of Eome's great generals, Avhen from afar, Up to the Capitol, in the ovation, They bore with them, in the triumphal car, Eich gold and gems, the spoils of foreign war. lo Trinmphc ! They forgot tlieir clay. E'en so Duval, who rode in glory on his way. His laced cravat, his kids of purest yellow, The many-tinted nosegay in his hand, His large black eyes, so fiery, yet so mellow. Like the old vintages of Spanish land, Locks clustering o'er a brow of high command. Subdue all hearts ; and, as up Holborn's steep Toils the slow car of death, e'en cruel butchers weep. Q 242 THE DEATH OF DUVAI. He saw it, hut he heeded not. His story, He knew, Avas graven on the page of Time. Tyburn to him Avas as a field of glory, "Where lie must stoop to death his head suhlime, Hymned in full many an elegiac rhyme. He left his deeds behind him, and his name — For he, like Ca3sar, had liA^ed long enough for fame. He quailed not, s^ave when, as he raised the chalice, — St Giles's bowl, — filled Avith the mildest ale, To pledge the croAvd, on her — his beauteous Alice — His eye alighted, and his cheek grcAv pale. She, Avliose SAveet breatli AA-as like tlie spicy gale, She, Avhoni he fondly deemed his oaa'u dear girl, Stood Avith a tall dragoon, drinking long draughts of purl. He bit his lip — it quivered but a moment — Then passed his hand across his flushing broAvs : He could have spared so forcible a comment Upon the constancy of woman's voavs. One short sharp pang his hero-soul allows ; ]jut in the boAvl he droAVnecl the stinging pain, And on his pilgrim course Avent calmly forth again. THE BEATir OF DUVAL. 243 A priBcely group of England's noble dangliters Stood in a balcony suffused Avitli grief, Diff'using fragrance round them, of strong -waters, And waving many a snowy handkerchief ; Then glowed the prince of highwayman and thief '. His soul was touched with a seraphic gleam — That Avoman could be false was but a mocking dream. And now, his bright career of triumph ended, His chariot stood beneath the triple tree. The law's grim finisher to its boughs ascended, And fixed the hempen bandages, while he Bowed to the throng, then bade the cart go free. The car rolled on, and left him dangling there, Like famed jMohammed's tomb, uphung midway in air. As droops the cup of the surcharged lily Beneath the buff"ets of the surly storm, Or the soft petals of the daff"odilly. When Sirius is uncomfortably wami, So drooped his head upon his manly form, "\Miile floated in the breeze his tresses brown. He hung the stated time, and then they cut him down. 2-H THE DEATH OF DUVAL. 'With, soft and tender care tlie trainbands bore him, Just as they found him, nightcap, robe, and all, And placed this neat though plain inscription o'er him, Among the atomies in Surgeons' Hall : "These are the Bones of the Renowned Duval!" There still they tell us, from their glassy case, He was the last, the best of all that noble race ! :.,;^!:i.*4i/l;: Eastern Serenade. The minarets wave on the plain of Stamboiil, And tlie breeze of the evening blows freshly and cool ; The voice of the niusnud is heard from the west, And kaftan and kalpac have gone to their rest. The notes of the kislar re-echo no more, And the waves of Al Sirat fall li'jht on the shore. 246 EASTERX SERENADE. A^Tiere art thou, my beauty ; where art thou, my bride 1 • Oh, come and repose by thy dragoman's side ! I Avait for thee still by the flowery tophaik — I have broken my Eblis for Zuleima's sake. ]]ut the heart that adores tliee is faitliful and true, Though it beats 'neath the folds of a Greek Allali-hu ! Oh, wake thee, my dearest ! the muftis are still. And the tschocadars sleep on the Franguestan hill ; !N'o sullen aleikoum — no derveesh is here, And the mosques are all watching by lonely Kashmere ! Oh, come in the gush of thy beauty so full, I have waited for thee, my adored attar-gul ! I see thee — I hear thee — thy antelope foot Treads liglitly and soft on the velvet cheroot ; The jewelled amaun of thy zemzem is bare. And the folds of thy palampore wave in the air. Come, rest on the bosom that loves thee so well, jNIy dove ! my phingari ! my gentle gazelle ! Nay, tremble not, dearest ! I feel thy heart throb, 'Ifeath the sheltering shroud of thy snowy kiebaub ; EASTERN SERENADE. 247 Lo, there shines IMuezzin, the beautiful star ! Thy lover is Avith thee, and clanger afar : Say, is it the glance of the haughty vizier, Or the bark of the distant effendi, you fcai' ? Oh, swift fly the hours in the garden of bliss ! And sweeter than balm of Gehenna thy kiss ! AVherever I wander — Avherever I roam, ]\Iy spirit flies back to its beautiful home ; It dwells by the lake of the limpid Stamboul, With thee, my adored one ! my own attar-gul ! Dame Fredegonde. Whex folks, Avitli headstrong passion blind, To play the fool make up their mind, They're sure to come with phrases nice And modest air, for your advice. But as a truth unfailing make it, They ask, hut never mean to take it. 'Tis not advice they want, in fact, But confirmation in their act. Kow mark what did, in such a case, A worthy priest who knew the race. A dame more Luxom, blithe, and free, Than l"'redegonde you scarce would see. So smart her dress, so trim her shape, Ke'er hostess offered juice of grape, Could for her trade Avish better sign ; Her looks gave flavour to her wine, DAME FREDEGONDE. 249 And each guest feels it, as lie sips, Smack of tlie ruby of her lips. A smile for all, a welcome glad, — A jovial coaxing Avay she had ; And, — what was more her fate than hlame, — A nine months' widow was our dame. But toil was hard, fnr trade was good, And gallants sometimes will he rude. " And what can a lone woman do 1 The nights are long and eerie too. K"ow, Guillot there's a likely man, None better draws or taps a can ; He's just the man, I think, to suit, If I could bring my courage to't." AVith thoughts like these her mind is crossed : The dame, they say, who doubts, is lost. " But then the risk ? I'll beg a slice Of Father Raulin's good advice." Prankt in her best, with looks demure, She seeks the priest ; and, to be sure. Asks if he thinks she ought to wed : 250 DAME FREDEGONDE. " AVith sucli a business on my head, I'm worried off my legs with care, And need some help to keep things square. I've thought of Guillot, truth to tell ! He's steady, knows his business Avell. AVhat do you think I '' "When thus he met her " Oh, take him, dear, you can't do better ! " " Eut then the danger, my good pastor, If of the man I make the master. Tliere is no trusting to these men." " "Well, well, my dear, don't have him, then ! " " But help I must have ; there's the curse. I may go farther and fare Avorse." " Why, take him, then 1 " " But if he should Turn out a thankless ne'er-do-good — In drink and riot Avaste my all, And rout me out of house and hall 1 " "Don't have him, thin ! But I've a plan Ta clear your doubts, if any can. The Ijells a peal are ringing, — hark ! Go straight, and what they tell you mark. If they say ' Yes ! ' wed, and be blest — ■ If ' Xo,' why— do as you think best." DAME FREDEGONDE. The bells rang out a triple bob : Oh, how our widow's heart did throb, As thus she heard their burden go, " ]\Iarry, mar-inarry, mar-Guillot ! ' Bells were not then left to hang idle : A week, — and they rang for her bridal. But, Avoe the Avhile, they might as Avell Have rung the poor dame's parting knell. The rosy dimples left her cheek, She lost her beauties plump and sleek ; For Guillot oftener kicked than kissed, And backed his orders with his fist, Proving by deeds as Avell as words That servants make the Avorst of lords. She seeks the priest, her ire to wreak, And speaks as angry Avomen speak. With tiger looks and bosom swelling. Cursing the hour she took his telling. To all, his calm reply was this, — '• I fear you've read the bells amiss : If they have lead you wrong in aught, Your wish, not they, inspired the thought. 251 252 DAME rUEDEGONDE. Just go, and mark Avell Avliat tliey say." Off trudged the dame upon licr way, And sure enougli their chime went so, — '•' Don't have that knave, tliat knave Guillot ! " " Too true," she cried, " there's not a doubt : What could my cars have been about 1 " She had forgot, that, as fools think, The bell is ever sure to clink. The Death of Ishniael. [This and the six fipUowing poems are exaiiijiles of tliat new achieve- iiieiit of inodeni song— wliicli, blending tlie utlU with the diilce, symbol- ises at once the iiraetical and spiritual characteristics of the age,— and is called familiarly "the puff poetical."] Died the Jew 1 '•' The Hebrew died. Oil tlic pavement cold lie lay, Around him closed the living tide ; The butcher's cad set down Ids tray ; The pot-boy from the Dragon Green No longer for his pewter calls ; The N'ereid rushes in between, ISTor more her ' Fine live mackerel !' bawls." Died the Jew \ " The Hebrew di(;d. They raised him gently from the stone, They flung his coat and neckcloth wide — r>ut linen had that Hebrew none. They raised the pile of hats that pressed His noble head, his locks of snow; But, ah, that lioad, upon his breast, Sank down with an expiring ' C'lo !' '' 254 THE DEATH OF ISHMAEL. ] )iL'd tlie Jew ? " The Hebrew died, Struck with overwhelming qualms From the flavour spreading wide Of some fine Virginia hams. "Would you know the fatal spot, Fatal to that child of sin ? These fine-flavoured hams are bought At 50 BisHorsGATE Within ! " Parrs Life Pills. 'TwAs in tlie toAvn of Liibeclc, A hnndrecl years ago, An old man Avalked into the cliurcli, "With beard as -white as snow ; Yet Avere liis cheeks not Avrinkled, Nor dim his eagle eye : There's many a knight that steps the street, ]\right wonder, should he chance to meet That man erect and high ! "When silenced was the organ, And hushed the vespers loud, The Sacristan approached the sire. And drew him from the crowd — " There's something in thy visage, 256 tarr's life pills. On Avliich T dare not look ; And avIk'II I rang the passing bell, A tremor that T may not tell, ]\ry very vitals shook. " Who art thou, awful stranger 1 Our ancient annals say, That twice two hundred years ago Another passed this way, Like thee in face and feature ; And, if the tale he true, 'Tis Avrit, that in this very year Again the stranger shall appear. Art thou the Wandering Jew 1 " " The Wandering Jew, tluiu dotard ! " The wondrous phantom cried — " 'Tis several centuries ago Since tliat pnoi' strijjling died. He would not use my nostrums — TARRS LIFE PILLS. 257 Sec, shaveling, here they are ! These put to flight all human ills, These conquer death — unfailing pills. And I'm the inventor. Parr ! " #5y>i >f,j/|# n Tarqnin and the Augur. Gingerly is good King Tarquin shaving. Gently glides the razor o'er his chin, Near him stands a grim Haruspex raving, And with nasal wliine he pitclies in Church extension hints, Till the monarch squints, Snicks his chin, and swears — a deadly sin ! " Jove confound thee, thou bare-legged impostor ! From my dressing-table get thee gone ! Dost thou think my flesh is double Glo'ster ? There again ! That cut was to the bone ! Get ye from my sight ; I'll believe you're right, "When my razor cuts tlie sharpenuig hone ! " TARQUIX AND THE AUGUR. 259 Thus spoke Tarquin with a deal of dryness; But tlie Augur, eager for his fees, Answered — " Try it, your Imperial Highness ; Press a little harder, if you please. There ! the deed is done ! " Through the solid stone Went the steel as glibly as through cheese. So the Augur touched the tin of Tarquin, Who suspected some celestial aid ; But he wronged the blameless gods ; for hearken I Ere the monarch's bet was rashly laid, With his searching eye Did the priest espy EoGERs' name engraved upon the blade. La Mort d Arthur, NOT BY ALFRED TENNYSON. Slowly, as one "wlio bears a mortal hurt, Tlirougli which the fountain of his life runs dry, Crept good King Arthur down unto the lake. A roughening wind was bringing in the waves With cold dull plash and plunging to the shore, And a great hank of clouds came sailing up Athwart the aspect of the gibbous moon, Leaving no glimpse save starlight, as he sank, "With a short stagger, senseless on the stones. No man yet knows how long he lay in swound ; But long enough it was to let the rust Lick half the surface of his polished shield ; For it was made by far inferior hands, Than forged his helm, his breastplate, and his greaves, Whereon no canker lighted, fur they bore The magic stamp of Meciii's Silver Steel. yupiter and tJie Indian Ale. " Take away this clammy nectar ! " Saul the king of gods and men ; "Never at Olympus' tahle Let that trash he served again. 262 JUriTER AND THE INDIAN ALE. Ho, Lyteus, thou tlie beery .' Quick — invent some other drink ; Or, in a brace of shakes, thou standest On Cocytus' sulphury brink ! " Terror shook the limbs of Bacchus, Paly grew liis pimpled nose, And already in his rearward Felt he Jove's tremendous toes ; When a bright idea struck him — " Dash my thyrsus ! I'll be bail — For you never were in India — That you know not Hodgson's Ale ! " " Bring it ! " (^uotli the Cloud-compeller ; And the wine-god brought the beer — " Port and claret are like water To tlic noble stuff that's here ! " JUPITER AND THE INDIAN ALE. 263 And Saturnius drank and nodded, Winking with Ins lightning eyes, And amidst the constellations Did the star of Hodgson rise ! The Lay of the Doudncy Brothers. Coats at five-and-forty shillings ! trousers ten-and-six a pair ! Summer waistcoats, three a sov'reign, light and com- fortable wear ! Taglionis, Llack or coloiired, Chesterfield and vel- veteen ! Tlie old English shooting-jacket — doeskins such as ne'er were seen ! Army cloaks and riding-habits, Alberts at a trifling cost ! Do you want an annual contract? "Write to Doud- NEYs' by the post. IJOUDXEY l^ROTIIERS ! DoUDXEY ErOTIIERS I Xot the men tliat drive the van, Plastered o'er with advertisements, heralding some paltry plan, THE LAY OF THE DOUDNEY BHOTHERS. 265 How, Ijy base meclianic stinting, and Ijy pinching of their backs, Lean attorneys' clerks may manage to retrieve tlieir Income-tax : But the old established business — where the best of clothes are given At the very lowest prices — ileet Street, Xumber JSTinety-seven. Wouldst thou know the works of Doudxey 1 Hie thee to the thronged Arcade, To the Park \:pon a Sunday, to the terrible Parade. There, amid the bayonets bristling, and the flashing of the steel, "When the household troops in squadrons round the bold field-marshals wheel, Shouldst thou see an aged warrior in a plain l)lue morning frock, Peering at the proud battalions o'er the margin of his stock, — Should thy throbbing lieart then tell Ihee, that the veteran Avorn and grey Curbed the course of Bonaparte, rolled the thunders of Assaye — 2GG THE LAY OF TUB DOUDNEV BROTHERS, Let it tell thee, stranger, likewise, tliat the goodly garb he wears Started into shape and Ijcing from the Doudnby Brothers' shears ! Seek thou next the rooms of Willis — mark, where D'Orsay's Count is bending, See the trouser's undulation from his graceful hip descending ; Hath the earth another trouser so compact and love- compelling 1 Thou canst find it, stranger, only, if thou seek'st the DouDXEYs' dwelling ! Hark, from Windsor's royal palace, what sweet voice enchants the ear? " Goodness, what a lovely waistcoat ! Oh, who made it, Albert dear? 'Tis the very prettiest pattern ! You must get a dozen others ! " And the Prince, in rapture, answers — " 'Tis the work of DOUDNEY LUOTHERS ! " Paris and Helen. As the youthful Paris presses Helen to his ivory breast, Sporting with her golden tresses, Close and ever closer pressed, " Let me," said he, " quaff the nectar, AVhich thy lips of ruhy yield ; Glory I can leave to Hector, Gathered in the tented field. " Let me ever gaze upon thee. Look into thine eyes so deep ; With a daring hand I won thee, With a faithful heart I'll keep. "Oh, my Helen, thou bright Avonder, Who was ever like to thee 1 Jove would lay aside his thunder, So lie might he blest like me. 268 PARIS xVXD HELKX. '• IIow mine eyes so fondly linger On thy soft and pearly skin; Scan each round and rosy finger, Drinkmg draughts of beauty in ! " Tell me, whence thy beauty, fairest 1 \Vlience thy cheek's enchanting bloom 1 Whence the rosy hue thou wearest ; Breathing round thee rich perfume 1 " Thus he S2'>oke, Avith heart that panted, Clasped her fondly to his side, Gazed on her with look enchanted, While his Helen thus replied : " Be no discord, love, between us, If I not the secret tell ! 'Twas a gift I had of Venus, — Venus, who hath loved me well; " And she told me as she gave it, ' Let not o'er the charm be known ; O'er thy person freely lave it, Only when thou art alone.' PARIS AND HELEN. 2G9 " 'Tis enclosed in yonder casket — Here behold its golden key ; But its name — love, do not ask it, Teirt I may not, even to tliee ! '' Long with vow and kiss he plied her ; Still the secret did she keep, Till at length he sank beside her, Seemed as he had dropped to sleeji. Soon was Helen laid in slumber, ^^^len her Paris, rising slow. Did his fair neck disencumber From her rounded arms of snow. Then, her heedless fingers 02:)ing, Takes the key and steals away. To the ebon table groping, Where the wondrous casket lay ; Eagerly the lid uncloses. Sees within it, laid aslope, Pears' Liquid Bloom of Poses, Cakes of his Transparent Soap ! Sojig of the Ennitye. I'm weary, and sick, and disgusted "With Britain's mechanical din ; "Wliere I'm much too Avell known to he trusted, And plaguily pestered for tin ; AYhere love has two eyes for your banker, And one chilly glance for yourself ; Where souls can afford to he franker, But when they're well garnished with pelf. I'm sick of the Avhole race of poets, Emasculate, misty, and fine ; They brew their small-beer, and don't know its Distinction from full-bodied wine. I'm sick of tlie prosers, tliat house up At drowsy St Stephen's, — ain't you 1 I want some strong spirits to rouse up A good revolution or two ! SONG OF THE ENNUYE. I'm sick of a land, where each morrow Repeats the dull tale of to-day, Where you can't even find a new sorrow^ To chase your stale pleasures away, I'm sick of blue-stockings horrific, Steam, railroads, gas, scrip, and consols ; So I'll off where the golden Pacific Piound Islands of Paradise rolls. There the passions shall revel unfettered, And the heart never speak but in truth, And the intellect, wholly unlettered. Be bright Avith the freedom of youth ! There the earth can rejoice in her blossoms, Unsullied by vapour or soot, And there chimpanzees and opossums Shall playfully pelt me with fruit. There I'll sit with my dark Orianas, In groves by the murmuring sea, And they'll give, as I suck the bananas, Their kisses, nor ask them horn me. 271 272 SONG OF TUE EXNUTK. They'll never torment me for sonnets, Xor bore me to death -with their own ; They'll ask not for shawls nor for bonnets, For milliners there are unknown. There my couch shall be earth's freshest flowers, My curtains the night and the stars, And my spirit shall gather new powers, TJncramped by conventional bars. Love for love, truth for truth ever giving, ]\ry days shall be manfully sped ; I shall know that I'm loved while I'm living, And be wept by fond eyes when I'm dead ! Caroline. Lightsome, Lrightsome, coiisin mine, Easy, breezy Caroline ! With tliy locks all raven-shaded, From thy merry brow ui>braided, And thine eyes of laughter full, Brightsome cousin mine ! Thou in chains of love hast bound me- Wherefore dost thou flit around me, Laughter-loving Caroline % When I fain Avould go to sleep In my easy-chair, \\lierefore on my slumbers creep — Wherefore start me from repose, Tickling of my hooked nose, Pulling of my hair ? S 27-4 CAROLIXE. "Wherefore, then, if thou dost love me, 80 to words of anger move me, Corking of tliis face of mine. Tricksy cousin Caroline 1 When a sudden sound I hear, jNluch my nervous system suffers, Sliaking tlirough and through. Cousin Caroline, I fear, 'Twas no other, now, hut you, Put gunpowder in the snuffers, Springing such a mine ! Yes, it was your tricksy self. Wicked-tricked little elf, E"aughty Caroline ! Pins she sticks into my shoulder, Places needles in my chair, And, when I begin to scold her, Tosses back lier combed hair, With so saucy-vexed an air. That the pitying beholder Cannot brook that I should scold her ; CAROLINE. 275 Then again she comes, and Ijolder, Blacks anew this face of mine, Artful cousin Caroline ! Would she only say she'd loA'e me, "Winsome, tinsome Caroline, Unto such excess 'twould move me, Teazing, pleasing, cousin mine ! That she might the live-long day Undermine the snufFer-tray, Tickle still my hooked nose, Startle me from calm repose With her pretty persecution ; ThroAV the tongs against my shins. Run me through and through with pins, Like a pierced cushion; Would she only say she'd love me, Darning-needles should not move me ; But, reclining back, I'd say, " Dearest ! there's the snufTer-tray ; Pinch, 0 pinch those legs of mine ! Cork me, cousin Caroline ! " To a Forget-Me-Not, FOUND IX MY EMPORIUM OF LOyf:-TOKENS. Sweet flower, that with thy soft bhie eye Didst once look up in shady spot, To Avhisper to the passer-by Those tender words — Forget-me-not ! Though withered now, thou art to me The minister of gentle thought, — And I could weep to gaze on thee, Love's faded pledge — Forget-me-not ! Thou speak'st of hours when I was young And happiness arose unsought ; "Wlien she, the whispering Avoods among, Gave me thy bloom — Forget-me-not ! TO A FORGET-ME-NOT. 277 Tliat rapturous hour with that dear maid From memory's page no time sliall blot, When, yielding to my kiss, she said, " Oh, Theodore — Forget me not ! " Alas for love ! alas for truth ! Alas for man's uncertain lot ! Alas for all the hopes of youth That fade like thee— Forget-me-not ! Alas for that one image fair. With all my brightest dreams inwrought ! That walks beside me everywhere. Still whispering — Forget-me-not ! Oh, jVremory ! thou art but a sigh For friendships dead and loves forgot. And many a cold and altered eye That once did say — Forget-me-not ! And T must bow me to thy laws, For— odd although it may be thought— I can't tell who the deuce it was That gave me this Forget-me-not ! The Mishap. " "Why art thou weeping, sister 1 AVliy is tliy clieek so })alc 1 Look up, dear Jane, and tell me AVhat is it thou dost ail 1 '• I know tliy will is froward, Thy feelings warm and keen, And that that Augustus Howard For weeks has not been seen. THE MISHAP. " I know how much you Lived him ; r,ut I know thou dost not weep For him ;— for though his passion be, His purse is noways deep. "Then tell me why those tear-drops 1 What means this woeful mood ? Say, has the tax-collector Been calling, and been rude 1 " Or has that hateful grocer, The slave ! been here to-day 1 Of course he had, by morrow's noon, A heavy bill to pay ! " Come, on thy brother's bosom Unburden all thy Avoes ; Look up, look up, sweet sister ; ISTay, sob not through thy nose.' " Oh, John, 'tis not the grocer Or his account, although How ever he is to be paid I reallv do not know. :79 280 THE MISHAr. " "Tis not the tax-collector ; Though by his fell command They've seized our old paternal clock, And new umbrella-stand ! " N"or that Augustus HoAvard, "Whom I despise almost, — But the soot's come down the chimney, John, And fairly spoilt the roast ! " Comfort in Affliction. " "Wherefore starts my bosom's lord 1 AVhy this anguisli in tliine eye 1 Oh, it seems as thy heart's chord Had broken Avith that sigh ! " Rest tliee, my dear lord, I pray, Eest thee on my bosom now ! And let me wipe the dews away, Are gathering on thy broAV. '• There, again ! that fevered start ! What, love ! husband ! is thy pain 1 There is a sorroAV on thy heart, A Aveight upon thy brain ! " Nay, nay, that sickly smile can ne'er Deceive affection's searching eye ; 'Tis a Avife's duty, Ln'e, to share Her husband's agony. 282 COMFORT IN AFFLICTION. " Since the dawn began to peep, Have I lain with stifled breath ; Heard thee moaning in thy sleep, As thou wert at grips Avitli death. "Oh, what joy it was to see My gentle lord once more awake ! Tell me, what is amiss with thee 1 Speak, or my heart will break ! " " Mary, thou angel of my life, Thou ever good and kind ; 'Tis not, believe me, my dear wife. The anguish of the mind I " It is not in my bosom, dear, No, nor my brain, in sooth 3 Lut ^lary, oh, I feel it here, Here iu my wisdom tooth ! "Then give, — oh, first best antidote, — Sweet partner of my bed ! Give me tliy llanncl petticoat 'J'o wi-ap around my head ! " The Invocation. " Brother, tliou art very weary, And thine eye is sunk and dim, And tliy neckcloth's tie is crumpled, And thy collar out of trim ; There is dust upon thy visage, — Think not, Charles, I would hurt ye, "\^Tien I say, that altogether You appear extremely dirty. " Frown not, brother, now, but hie thee To thy chamber's distant room : DroAvn the odours of the ledger "With the lavender's perfume. Brush the mud from off thy trousers, O'er the china basin kneel, Lave thy brows in Avater softened With the soap of Old Castile. 284 THE INVOCATION. " Smooth tlie locks tliat o'er thy forehead Xow in loose disorder stray ; Pare thy nails, and from thy Avhiskers Cut those ragged points away ; Let no more thy calculations Thy bewildered brain beset ; Life has other hopes than Cocker's, Other joys than tare and tret. " Haste thee, for I ordered dinner, "Waiting to the very last, Twenty minutes after seven, And 'tis now the quarter past. 'Tis a dinner which Lucullus "Would have Avept with joy to see, One, might wake the soul of Curtis From death's drowsy atrophy. " There is soup of real turtle, Turbot, and the dainty sole ; And tli(j mottled roc of lobsters Llushcs through the Ijutter-bowl. THE IXVOCATION, 285 There the lordly haunch of mutton, Tender as the mountain grass, Waits to mix its ruddy juices AYith the girdling caper-sauce. " There a stag, whose branching forehead Spoke him monarch of the lierds, He whose flight was o'er the heather Swift as through the air the bird's, Yields for thee a dish of cutlets ; And the haunch that wont to dash O'er the roaring mountain-torrent, Smokes in most delicious hash. " There, besides, are amber jellies Floating like a golden di-eam ; Ginger from tlie far Bermudas, Dishes of Italian cream ; And a princely apple-dumpling, AVhich my own fair fingers -m^ought, Shall unfold its nectared treasures To thy lips all smoking hot. 286 THE INVOCATION. " Ha ! I see thy brow is clearing, Lustre flaslies from thine eyes ; To thy lips I see the moisture Of anticipation rise. Hark ! tlie dinuer-bell is sounding ! " Only wait one moment, Jane : I'll be dressed, and down, before you Can get up the iced champagne ! '' The Hitsbaiufs Petition, Come liitlier, my heart's darling, Come, sit upon my knee, Aiid listen, Avhile I whisper A boon I ask of thee. You need not pull my -whiskers So amorously, my dove ; 'Tis something quite apart from The gentle cares of love. 288 THE husband's petitiox. I feel a ])itter craving — A dark and deep desire, Tliat glows beneath my bosom Like coals of kindled fire. The passion of the nightingale, AVhen singing to the rose, Is feebler than the agony That murders my repose ! Nay, dearest ! do not doubt me, Though madly thus T speak — I feel thy arms about lue, Thy tresses on my cheek : I know the sweet devotion That links thy heart with mine,- I know my soul's emotion Is doubly felt by thine : And deem not that a shadow ITatli fallen across my love : N'o, sweet, my love is shadoAvless, As yonder heaven above. THE husband's petition. 289 These little taper fingers — Ah, Jane ! how white they be ! — Can well supply the cruel want That almost maddens me. Thou wilt not sure deny me My first and fond request ; I pray thee, Ijy the memory Of all we cherish best — By aU the dear remembrance Of those delicious days, When, hand in hand, we wandered Along the summer braes ; By all we felt, unspoken, "When 'neath the early moon. We sat beside the rivulet, In the leafy month of June ; And by the broken whisper That fell upon my ear, More sweet than angel music, When first I wooed thee, dear ! T 200 THE HUSBAND S PETITIOX. Bj thy great vow Avliicli bound tliee For ever to my side, And by tlie ring that made thee My darling and my bride ! Thou "wilt nut fail nor falter, But bend thee to the task — A BOILED sheep's-head OX SuXDAT Is all the boon I ask ! '-«-j;f^ Sonnet to Britain. BY THE D OF W- ^^Jr-^i^V^/ b ,-' Halt ! Shoulder arms ! Eecover ! As you were ! Eight wheel ! Eyes left ! Attention ! Stand at ease ! 0 Britain ! 0 my country ! AVords like these Have made thy name a terror and a fear To all the nations. Witness Ebro's banks, 292 SONNET TO BRITAIN. Assay e, Toulouse, Xivellc, and Waterloo, AVhere the grim despot muttered — Sauve qui 2)eut ! And Xey fled darkling. — Silence in the ranks ! Inspired by these, amidst the iron crash Of armies, in the centre of his troop The soldier stands — unmovable, not rash — Until the forces of the foeman droop ; Then knocks the Frenchmen to eternal smash, Pounding them into mummy. Shoulder, hoop ! THE END. PRIjrrED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD ANT> SONS. j» . Wil i» B J UqSIi The book of rr3B6 ballads PR U98ii M3b6 188U sF- ^^^^^^(L^..iL/././: :'":/t < .y. jRiL.2l;/u*.A.<:. ruA,^ni